


Alternate Pour

by An_Ephemeral_Walk



Series: Mixed Media [5]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Deity, Gen, Lady - Freeform, Mage, and more - Freeform, from all my universes that is, mer, not noir though, thats later, the universe mashup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Ephemeral_Walk/pseuds/An_Ephemeral_Walk
Summary: When something brings alternate universes together, things get fun.And destructive.
Relationships: Cuphead & Mugman (Cuphead)
Series: Mixed Media [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1322168
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Cupboard spill.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the reason I haven't updated much. I swear I'm still alive. I just figured i'd break this thing up because currently in its unfinished state its at a cool 20k words. So the next chapter will be around soon, and hopefully i'll be able to finish this thing by chapter three.

It was the sudden silence that woke the Knight from his sleep. Then it was the realization that the tree he’d been leaning against wasn’t there anymore, and that he was flat on the ground. Finally, the thing that got him opening his eyes, was the lack of weight that had been on his side when he and his brother had settled down for the night. The armored porcelain Knight sat up slowly, careful to keep the noise of his movement down.

The area around him was dark, but not totally pitch. It reminded him of that mine he’d been dragged into by a not so nice scientist. Rock walls, yellowed electric lights strung along thin lines, and a mossy floor. The air felt damp, carrying a certain quality to it he only found when underground. Cold but not musty, eerie but not crushing. 

No one else was visible, including his brother, and that was what made him take a harder look around. If Inkwell was playing a joke, it wasn’t telling him. It wasn’t saying anything actually. When he reached for his creator, he only received silence, the same that had woken him up. So he wasn’t on Inkwell anymore, or something about his surroundings was blocking it. He looked down at his Brigandine, looking for the telltale glow it let off when in Hell, but that was a bust. At a bit of a loss, and already growing more than a little nervous being away from his brother as he was, he began walking.

The alcove he’d been in was small, the tunnel leading from it bearing the marks of pickaxes. The moss under his boots squished in a way that was unpleasant, and made him glad he had boots on. As he walked carefully down the poorly lit hall, he tried to recall any witches or sorcerers or spirits they’d annoyed. He figured he might have, but his brother definitely hadn’t, and his brother wouldn’t have let someone stay mad at the Knight for very long, somehow endearing the red knight to them with a few carefully crafted sentences. They’d been in the middle of going to the next town through what would normally be a scary forest if one wasn’t the child of Inkwell and thus impervious to the nuances of a flashy sentient continent.

As he thought, some noise up ahead caught his attention. Chattering noises, like gremlins laughing in their usual malicious glee. He hoped it wasn’t those or gnomes, he hated the little jerks. He always wound up with dents on his boots from punting the suckers into the stratosphere and his brother always wound up complaining about ruined heels. It wasn’t fun, but if those were the cause, he was far less worried. He was fairly certain his brother punt them farther than even their uncle could throw them. Even so, he didn’t want to leave without double checking.

The noise was coming ahead of him, down a side branch of the main path, one lit more by bioluminescent plant life than fluorescent bulbs. He made his steps quieter, following the noises until he caught sight of a curious thing on the ground. In a tiny divot, a gleaming scale a vivid blue color stuck out of the sparsely moss-covered rock. He picked it up, spotting a few more nearby, leading further into the dark, where the noises were. The scale was sturdy, but there was flecks of broken porcelain on it, and the closer he looked, the more he realized the moisture clinging to it was soul liquid, not water.

Not pausing again, he followed a none too pleasant trail further down the winding path until finally he caught sight of the cause.

Surrounding a rock, tiny sharp toothed, sharp clawed creatures looking like a mix of gnomes, gremlins, and a species he couldn’t identify squealed and dug into the rock, reaching for the thing situated too high for them to reach. Perched high, scrunched rather uncomfortably, was a mermaid of all things. A mermaid with his brother’s face. A mermaid—merman?—with big blue eyes narrowed sharply in distaste, a blue nose, a frown. Porcelain mermaids, was this like that time by that scrying well? Was he in a different universe? The Knight really hoped not, he had no idea if his brother was in the same universe, or how to get back. 

Though his shoulders were the same slim white porcelain his own brother had, below that, gossamer blue and black scales grew, growing denser and denser as it went down his torso until it reached his waist where the soft blue turned deep, vibrant blue and black. All the way down the tail to an impressively delicate looking fin. On his hips and on his back, there seemed to be more fins. His fingers had rather sharp nails utterly covered in the blood of what he guessed was the creatures.

Speaking of the creatures, there were a healthy number of them, but the Knight? Well, he was pretty good with handling this kind of thing. The bells on his handle jingled, a brilliant golden spear gifted to him by one of the previous Ladies appeared, and five of the things were impaled, all before any of the others heard the draw of his sword. He’d wanted to be sure the spear had an effect in case his sword didn’t, and if his sword didn’t, he knew the spear and his magic would work. Though he’d have to be careful with how much magic he used before he got back to Inkwell. It’d have a conniption if he returned totally drained.

The group turned to see the new intruder, four more falling to another flash of the spear, the Knights aim steady and true. The mermaid perked up, going from annoyed and scrunched to draped and curious, heedless of the few still clawing for him. He didn’t have to worry thought, the swords were just as effective, slicing right through the creatures and leaving a bloody mess at the base of the rock. The last one, he crushed under his boots, not even slightly winded. Now he was totally confident his brother would be fine.

Cherry red locked onto baby blue, and blue blinked. The Knight slowly lifted his hand, and waved. The mermaid tilt his head, shifting until he was laying more over the rock. As he began to slide down the rock, the scrape of scales and porcelain jarring, the Knight jolted, hurrying over to grab the mermaid by the waist and haul him the rest of the way down. Setting him down, unsure if that was what the other needed, he found his face grabbed and his head dragged down. The mer version of his brother examined him closely, silent but expressive in his tail flicks and frowns or eyebrow raises.

The Knight’s body knelt down to be closer to the head, content for now, really not able to be threatened by someone who was definitely his brother in another world. At least he hoped so, he wasn’t sure he could picture his brother without him around, but that could have just been his own upbringing talking.

“Hello!” The knight finally spoke, and the mer brightened further than the knight thought possible. Finally, the mer smiled, a big toothy smile that showed off rather nasty fangs hiding amongst the straight teeth. His head was placed back over his shoulders, and then it was his body’s turn to be examined, but that was fine, that meant he could look at the tail more closely. It looked heavy, had been a little heavy when moving. The fins on his back and sides would move, another means the mer had of expressing himself and were black and sheer with glimmers of brilliant blue and the bones that expanded the flesh wrapped in thick black.

Flecks of scales appeared on the mers face, but looked more etched in than grown and oddly flesh-like, like the tail and the scales going down his torso and dominating his tail. Bits of scales were rougher, from where the mer had been dragging them on the rock floor, with tiny pieces of rock embedded in some of the larger areas of loss. Those areas looked more like claw and bite marks, and marring the impressive tail fin were a couple teeth marks. He must have gotten them while scaling the rock to escape the enemy, seeing as it didn’t look like he had any weapons on him aside from those fangs and the sharp claws.

Actually, now that he could see the hands, they too had thin webbing up to the first knuckle. Decorating his handle was a blue ribbon and brilliant pearls strung and wrapped around artfully. Around his wrists too, were pearls.

The mer touched the brigandine, seemingly curious about the heat it was letting off, but it didn’t hurt him, more proof the other wasn’t a threat.

“Got a name?” The Knight asked. The mer met his gaze, and slowly blinked a couple times, then nodded, but didn’t give it. That was fine, the Knight was _fantastic_ with nicknames. “Cool! Well, I’ll just call you Mermugs, since you’re almost exactly like my brother, minus the tail and fins and fangs and stuff. That alright?”

The mers lips quirked up in an amused smile, and that was answer enough.

“Do you need to be carried out of here? I think you might do better on the moss then over the rock, and I don’t think you’re too heavy for me to carry. Or do you want to stay here?” The knight let a bit of playfulness slip into his own voice, finding it entertaining that the other was clearly finding a joke somewhere he wasn’t.

His answer was in the form of the mer crawling over his shoulder, tail curling around his waist. Taking full advantage of no neck, the others head turned so he could watch ahead. With one arm supporting his torso and his tail keeping him upright around the Knight’s wasit, he settled rather quickly, and without a single hitch. It made the Knight wonder if the mer had done this before. The tail flicked impatiently when the Knight remained in place for a minute, making the Knight snicker and start back down the path. He curled one arm around the tail to help the mer stay in place and stay upright, confident he could handle the small enemies with one had. He would have joked he could handle them blind, but he’d learned the hard way about too much arrogance.

Passenger in tow, the Knight pressed forward, hopeful he’d find his brother in the mine, safe and sound.

-=-=-=-=-=--==--=-=-

The Lady loathed non-sentient dirt. Before this, he’d have never known what dirt that wasn’t always ready to assist him was like. Now that he did, he wished he didn’t. The ground constantly slipped under his heels, the grass acted more as a hindrance than a help, and the trees snapped at him, leaving tiny gouges his magic would have to fix later. Even worse was trying to run while hiking his skirts up into one hand. The other had to be used to grab things or move branches away from his face.

He’d woken up to rather intrusive breathing right over him, and found a beast like a centaur if centaurs were part bear instead. The thing looked like it had been trying to figure out how to eat him and got stuck on the skirts, plucking at the hem in confusion. Now, the Lady wasn’t one for screaming, so it hadn’t realized he was awake until it got closer and got a heel planted so hard in its face, the Lady felt bone snap. Served the rude fellow right, but it also made the thing mad, and so the Lady had been forced to swiftly make a run for it, and had been running ever since.

He was fast, faster than his brother and agile. But at that moment, he’d give a lot to be able to climb things as good as his brother did. At the very least the thick branches in the canopy above him looked like they’d have supported his weight and he’d have been able to use it to keep away from the thing until he figured out what to do. His magic wasn’t necessarily offensive, and he had poor fighting capabilities. Reaching for the land below him gave him nothing, not even static. The awful realization that he wasn’t on Inkwell anymore was exponentially worse when compounded with the fact that the bear centaur thing was a rude _and_ determined fellow.

Anyone with actual muscle and blood would be exhausted by now, he was more scratched up and frustrated than tired, but it wouldn’t last for too much longer. Whistling had given him nothing too, which meant his brother, who’d been right beside him when he’d fallen asleep, wasn’t around anymore. So the Lady was in a mysterious world with none so nice creatures and no Knight at his side. Things weren’t going so well!

They weren’t getting any better when the odd colored tree he thought he’d run by turned out to be legs of a _very_ tall giant that easily scooped the centaur up as the pair hit a clearing. The Lady lost his footing when the ground shook as the giant moved, and barely managed to roll under a tree before a shower of centaur remains drenched the area he’d been. The giant bit through another chunk of the centaur, peering down at him in contemplation. He scrunched closer to the tree, waiting for it to blink to dart behind the tree and run. He cursed the color of his bright blue gown, hating it in that moment for making it impossible to blend in with his forest surroundings. Maybe if he found a patch of flowers he could use them as cover, but at the moment, surrounded by greens and browns and golds, the dress was a hindrance in one too many ways.

Every new crunch made him flinch, but the giant didn’t blink, it remained focused. At the very least he was rather sure the moment it tried biting into him it’d regret it. If his corsets boning didn’t snap and dig into its gums, his body sure would. Though, he wasn’t too sure how happy his magic would be to reattach pieces of him. Then it knelt down, shaking the ground and sending a shower of leaves and twigs over the Lady.

When he uncovered his face, it was far too close, its rancid breath rustling the greenery around him and making his soul curdle. Idly, he wondered if cute would deter it, but doubt doe eyes would do anything to something that didn’t appear to care much for anything other than stuffing its face. It sure didn’t care about bathing, that was for absolutely sure. Its stringy hair clumped and buzzing with flies from bits of gore that it just didn’t care to brush out. As if it wanted to make sure it knew he was judging it, it grinned, blood soaked, yellowed teeth at him. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, unimpressed.

It grabbed the closest thing of his—the hem of his gown—and yanked with probably an ounce of its strength, and yet it still dragged the Lady from his little spot so abruptly he didn’t have time to do anything other than squeak. It found that funny, and—tossing the remaining quarter of the centaur off to one side, it yanked on the dress again, dragging him closer.

“No!” Was it capable of speech? Could it understand anything? The Lady didn’t care, he just snapped at it while trying to keep his dress from tearing from the utterly disgusting nails the thing had. It grinned wider, so either it understood the tone and found it funny such a tiny thing thought to shout at him, or it understood the word and found it funny the tiny thing thought that would work. Briefly the Lady toyed with the idea that the thing might have swallowed some prey whole, or more whole than the centaur, enough that his magic could grab ahold of it in the things belly and allow it to find something else to deal with. Like corpses carving it from the inside out.

But he didn’t have to.

It blinked—one eye, so it was a cyclops, the Lady hadn’t noticed that, too distracted by the teeth—and turned, still holding his dress hostage. But if it was noticing something, that something might be even worse than it, so the Lady leaned and spot what the issue was.

A doll, porcelain, with bright red shorts and a black shirt, a white hat with a red and white striped band, red tinted white hair, and the same mischievous expression as his own brother, stood poking at the cyclops’s leg. The doll, satisfied, got into a fighting stance, and with but a single punch, broke the leg clean off the rest of the cyclops. There wasn’t even a sweat broken, the leg just detached in a shower of gore. The doll hardly blinked outside of squinting to avoid getting sprayed by blood in his glowing cherry red eyes. Both the Lady and the cyclops were silent for a good handful of seconds, then the cyclops was letting out a horrible roar of pain that rattled the Lady down to his soul and made him wince, ducking his head down and curling his shoulders up in displeasure. The doll grinned at it, quite pleased with the result.

“You’re the one manhandling a lady, you don’t… have a leg to stand on! Ha!” The doll joked, as if he understood the cyclops’ roar. Despite the jovial tone, the way his body remained tense, the way his fists were clenched, and the sharpness of that grin, the Lady was quite glad the doll wasn’t aggressive towards him. Or, at least not yet, he wasn’t too sure still. The cyclops, not finding the joke funny in the least, twisted and brought a heavy fist down on the doll.

The doll caught it in one hand, still grinning, and now biting back laughter.

“I know duelists are supposed to shake on it, but _still_.” He shifted just enough to get better aim, and then there was no more wrist, it was just, gone. There wasn’t even blood splatter, it was just gone. Once more the cyclops shrieked, but the Lady was free now, and he hastily scrambled back and away from the blatantly one-sided fight.

“I’d feel bad, but you started it.” The doll pseudo scolded. The cyclops shifted, trying to turn so it could use its other hand—that or run, it was hard to tell, not that the doll cared at all. Even more so when the cyclops flat out lunged forward, acting as if it could just surprise him by biting him in half. The doll moved, The Lady blinked, and there was no more cyclops head. The body collapsed, but there was no gore, it was just…gone. As if it’d been hit so hard, the liquid inside just didn’t have a chance to react.

Once it was down, the doll theatrically dusted his hands off, turned on his heel, and trot over to the Lady. Far from the dangerous expression before, this one was open and curious and excited.

“Hey there! I got here a bit late, but he didn’t do any damage to you did he?” The doll asked, offering a hand to help the Lady up. The same hand that still had a bit of gore on it, a piece of skull plopping down to the forest ground after a moment of defying gravity. Almost instantly the doll turned _bashful_ , and laughed nervously while he knelt down and tried to wipe his hand clean using nearby leaves and grass. And at that, as the doll turned back, the Lady _smiled_.

The doll blinked, a bit stunned, but his freshly cleaned hand was taken and he stood easily.

“Anyone ever tell you that’s dangerous?” He joked.

The Lady smiled wider, more mischievous than before, a better answer than any verbalization he could have given. The doll snickered.

“I was trying to find my way back to my brother actually, you seen a doll that looks like me but blue?”

“No, I’ve lost my brother as well, he’s like me, but red. Perhaps we could search for them together?” The Lady answered easily, far more relaxed than before. The doll’s hand was warm, and to the necromancer, his soul was just as soothing as the Knights. It wasn’t his brother, and he wasn’t the other’s sibling, but it was enough for now. The doll seemed to agree, nodding eagerly and leading the way back into the forest in a random direction.

“Can I guess your name?” The doll asked after a few minutes of pleasant silence. The Lady, who’d been pondering using his magic to help them search, nodded, giving the doll his attention.

“Mugs? Or..something like that, it’s my nickname for my little brother. We sort of forgot our actual names after we died. “

“Lady Mugs at your service, Cuphead?”

“Yes! You want to hear the story behind the nicknames?”

“I’d love to!”

As the doll spoke, filling the quiet atmosphere with his boisterous voice, the Lady listened attentively, letting just a small portion of his thoughts continue to mull over magic use. It would drain him, and with no Inkwell that would make him weaker. But if it got them closer, it would be worth it. And with this clear alternate of his brother, he doubt he would be in much danger if he did wind up growing too tired. Especially not when he almost casually hefted a snake ten times their size and let it become the first snake to touch the sun. Never even pausing his story. Honestly it was a little intimidating.

But then there was the other minor issue. The doll’s body had sigils and runes on it to keep his soul in place yes, but the sigils weren’t exactly perfect. Any decent necromancer would have been able to tear it from the body. And with his magic, a sneeze could be enough to accidentally remove it. If he tried using his magic full force at that moment, the doll would be split, the sigils would call the soul back, but as he spoke about a weird rat mage doing just that, and of dying…the Lady wasn’t keen on risking any level of trauma. He’d have to figure out how to fix that.

As they approached the base of the only landmass that caught their attention and stood above the tall canopy, the Lady decided he’d wait just a little more to offer any assistance. If they found the dolls brother, perhaps the mage could fix their runes to make sure none would ever be able to pull their souls free. If they didn’t see anything of note or hear anything, he’d offer it then, so he could use his magic freely.

“And boy, I hope my brother’s doing okay actually. There was a weird illness hitting all the magic users on Inkwell. He caught it I think and wasn’t feeling that well.” The doll mused, the Lady frowned, then offered a small smile. If the doll was this scary strong, he highly doubt the mage would have any issues with any illness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The red mer wasn’t too sure how he got where he was, in a puddle on a rocky floor, surrounded by weird algae and moist rock and mildly bright lights, but he didn’t like it. Even more so when tiny things started crawling through the shadows into the patches of sunlight the roof of the not underwater cave. Had he fallen asleep in a cove again? He couldn’t recall ever seeing crabs this strange though. Certainly not ones that would have spotted him baring his teeth and thought to continue growing closer. Any crab with survival instinct would have been fleeing by now. Did these ones not see mers often?

His tail flicked irritably, his fins arched and puffed, and his nails carved lines into the not algae. The first one to get too close, he snatched up and tore in half. He was used to removing limbs from those awful land dwellers, such weak things were nothing to him. He doubled down on the show of strength by tossing the remains into the small group surrounding him. The next two that lunged learned right quick that a mers tail wasn’t fun to be hit by. His tailfin, less billowy than his brothers, easily caught one midair and tossed it into his awaiting claws. The other one got knocked aside brutally, cracking noisily into the ground.

Actually, he’d been near his brother when he’d decided to take a nap. Was it his brothers clearly evil pet? He _knew_ the weird squid had been trying to get rid of him! He knew it, and like any gullible big brother he’d just let his baby brother keep the creepy thing! He should have killed Otto and just found a pretty skull to decorate and offer up instead. But nooo, he just _had_ to cave to the big blue eyes.

Three more lost their heads with a casual swipe, and one had its face bitten off, the skull vastly too weak to withstand what amounted to ceramic knives carving into it. He’d dealt with worse. He bet his amazing mantis shrimp pet would have had these things dead by now. He was playing, he would admit, but he was also trying to remember how that water lily had recommended frying squid. Could one even fry something in the dead of night after kidnapping a pet and murdering it without letting the little brother know until the deed was done and a story could be fabricated? He guessed he’d figure out when that time came. For now, he was tearing apart, crushing, and biting down the small group until none were left and his chin, arms, tail, and the puddle of water was deep red.

Spying another nearby pool that was much cleaner, he started to drag himself over, grumbling as he did. The things tasted weird, but not awful. Like barracuda, but not as biting. He stuck his face in the new puddle, grimacing as he felt his scales pull uncomfortably on the moist rocks. At least he’d have proof he’d been dragged away to be murdered by Otto. The question was, how would Otto try spinning it? Would his mantis shrimp know to enact plan ‘doom punch of mutual destruction’ without him there? He was still alive as far as he could tell, so it wasn’t like he could follow through with his vow to haunt Otto and use his spirit to tell his amazing pet to get revenge for its fallen master.

A different rustle, louder than the sound his scales made on the rock, but equally unpleasant. The red mer lifted his head carefully, keeping the splashing noise to near nothing as the newcomer found itself in a patch of sunlight. Taller and leaner with a far more terrifying maw than even some of the deep sea creatures he’d seen, the creature had already noticed him. Likely due to his bright cherry red coloring. His tail flicked again, once again agitated. Bigger didn’t mean impossible to beat, but it’s arms were deceptively lean and its distended abdomen spoke of extreme hunger. If it was anything like his brother when he got hangry, the fight wouldn’t be fun.

It took a step closer, visible ribs sucking in air. Taut, emaciated face twitching and twisting as the smell of blood and wet stone told it stories. Its painfully stretched flesh almost creaked with its movement, far too malnourished to sit comfortably over jagged bones and sinewy muscle. Yes, the red mer decided, the ensuing fight would be _miserable_. Boy would manager sure be surprised when his soul suddenly popped up in the casino. Preferably dragging his murderer with him. What had that contract said about who would keep his brother fed and away from distracted swims and stealing from fish boats? He hoped it wasn’t Wheezy, that lionfish was horrible at keeping even the piranha imps alive.

It seemed to decide that the porcelain mer was indeed worth a fight, and it lunged. The red mer sucked in a breath, stunned at the sheer speed it had. One moment all the way across the cave, the next, nearly right in front of him. Whatever, if he died, he’d be a ghost, and vengeful ghosts could throw a bunch of things and never be hurt so he’d be even better off.

Except, there was a crackle in the air, and then it wasn’t moving at all, claw extended towards his face, close enough he could see the surprisingly thick claws razor edge. Confused, he raised a hand to poke it. His non-dominant hand—he wasn’t dumb, if he was going to lose a hand, it was going to be his least favorite one. It didn’t move, even when he started to push, simply remaining frozen. Then, a new shuffling behind him, and a rather pathetic sniffle.

He turned, and for a moment he thought the land dwellers had finally learned how to imbue the empty shells they made with life. Then he wondered why it looked vaguely familiar, especially in the eyes and the way it carried itself trudging across the wide cave.

“Alternate realities… this better not have been because of a sneeze or Brother is never letting me live this down.” The thing spoke. And the red mer reared back in horror.

Someone, at some point while he’d been asleep, murdered his brother, and shoved his poor baby brother’s soul into that legged shell! That was his brother’s voice! Down to the inflection! Oh now see, he knew the land dwellers were awful with their carelessness and greed but _this…_. Was it too late to get back to Otto and tell him now was the best time to enact the end world plan? What could his boss do? What could Otto’s supposed napping deep-sea boss do? The surface had murdered his brother and dropped them both in a dangerous cave.

“Is there something on my face? Or are you mad I froze that thing. I’m not sorry, I’ve read about those things, it would have torn you apart.” Even dead, his brother still sounded exasperated, truly a marvel. He dragged himself a bit closer, then there was a rune under him, then he was in the air, hovering a little over the ground, in a bubble rapidly filling with water from around them. Startled, he threw his hands out, and the bubble rolled forward as his weight shifted, he found himself on his back, tail in the air, a right mess of a mer.

“It sounded painful when you moved on the ground, I’m not strong enough to carry you, and I am a bit sorry about that.” The corpse locking his siblings soul away got closer to him. Out of habit, he bristled, sibling or no, those were legs, and he _hated_ land dwellers. Same jerks that murdered his brother, stole his soul away, and carried the red mers own fishy kind away just because their bright cherry color was appealing. It wasn’t out of conscious thought, but the corpse didn’t seem that scared either way. Okay, that was fine, it was still his brother, and his brother had made it a point to never act scared around him. The arched brow of judgement was the final sign.

He reached out—with one hand this time, just where had this bubble thing come from?—trying to coax the corpse to stick a hand close. He’d free his brothers soul the only way he knew how. The corpse looked at him, blinked slowly once, sniffled a little, and stuck his hand right in, entwining their fingers.

“Even as a fish you’re weird. I’m teasing you about this. Oh but what if my fish version is weird too… Can’t say nothing if he’s never found I suppose.”

The red mer pulled the arm further in, curious as to why the flesh wasn’t as supple or squishy, and then just went for it, chomping down on the arm as he’d done to the little creatures.

Instant regret.

His teeth met porcelain and—worse than that— _gears. Actual gears, they’d stuffed a corpse with gears and covered it in porcelain?!_ He froze, teeth stuck in metal, jaw singing insulting tunes of ire, teeth burning.

The corpse stared, his eyes fell half-lidded, his hip cocked out a bit, and in the most deadpan voice the red mer had _ever_ heard, spoke. “What we learn.”

It wasn’t a question. It was judgement, wrapped in unimpressed wrapping paper finished with a tone that could curdle even the most prideful person’s ego.

“Not going to do that again, are you.”

Slowly, he tried to unhinge his jaw, screaming—in his head or out loud, he couldn’t hear past the ringing in his head—the entire time.

“I’m impressed, I thought that expression on your face meant you were going to do something stupid but this takes it.” Right before the red mers eyes, the broken porcelain healed, gears refitting and metal repairing itself. So no, it was worse, the one before him was a _mage._ Oh, and boss had told him and his brother not to interact with them after one had gone after manager’s voice. How had the land dwellers turned his brother into a mage thought? They were far more threatening now, he’d have to watch his dead mage brother closely to figure it out so hopefully boss could fix it.

He whined, a bit distressed now. He was surrounded by a water bubble, in the grip of the mages magic, clearly outmatched and unable to reach his boss, manager, or even his brother apparently. The fingers around his tightened gently, reassuringly, and the look on the mage softened.

“You’re confused as I am I imagine, but look, I’m sure it’s all fine. We’ll find my brother, and then we’ll find your brother, or vice versa! And then I can figure out how to get us all back safe and sound and this can just be a wild adventure you talk about to people who will never believe you. May even tell you to cut back on the orange juice before bed.” A soothing tone it may have been, it just made the red mer wonder if his boss could even fix this. If the mages magic would even let him. His grip tightened, unwilling to let go, but unwilling to hold onto the mages hand. Ultimately, after another tiny sneeze turned the creature that had attacked him into a confused and disgruntled bunny, the red mer let go of the mage, watching him stoop to pick up the bunny by the back of the neck.

“Perfect, I’ll tell my brother these cracks came from you biting me and then let him deal with you. Real swell of you to volunteer!” The mage grinned.

It was not a nice grin, it was evil, and that familiar grin did give the red mer a little comfort. Even as the bunny was dropped into a floating rune, vanishing from sight. Even as the mage began to walk, sniffling every once in a while, deeper into the cave.


	2. Casting call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining cast.  
> To help a bit more because i'm not confident it's easy to understand. Please let me know if this list needs expanding as well, in case other's aren't clear either.   
> Possessed: The version of Mugman in the oneshot where Mugman is possessed by the pitchfork. Associated with violet.  
> Pitchfork: The version of Cuphead in the oneshot where Cuphead was possesssd by the pitchfork. Also associated with Mahogany.

Ever since dying and becoming a deity, he’d heard the waters of his Domain, smelled that desert smell, and heard the voice of his Domain greet him after every nap. Now, as he woke in a wooden structure, it was only silence that greet him. He lazily sat up, upper torso slumping as sleep doggedly clung to his mind. Dazed, he wondered why he’d never really noticed the sounds and smells and voice until they were gone. He then wondered if he’d done something to make his Domain wander from him. Perhaps it was so busy devouring someone’s horrible faults that it couldn’t stay so close to him at that moment.

It would be easy to figure out though, just a quick dip in his Domain’s realm and he’d know.

But the call wasn’t answered. Oh there was a muffled sound, but that was it. He didn’t fall back into the shadows, he didn’t fall into his realm, and he certainly woke up then. First, he wasn’t where he’d fallen asleep. He and his brother had been back at the temple, tired after a month of solid exploration and being swept away by mortals grateful for the best judges of the sins and faults around. So many trials, so little time. Despite being fun, it was exhausting. They were still new by deity standards, and it showed in their inability to do as much as long as the others could. Mama Bon Bon had reassured them a couple years into being deities, remarking how she’d barely been able to protect a single home much less entire villages, as she could now.

This wasn’t their temple. This was a wooden building, big and dilapidated and rotting. It looked like the lobby of an outdoorsy hotel, with a big desk by the half broken front doors. Several other desks sat behind the large one, like an office, but when he went to examine the large desk, it listed cabins. Some were marked rented, others vacant.

The windows were boarded up, but some had holes and gouge marks in them. Most curiously though, was the old blood under the chair by the front desk. He scraped the toe of his boot over it, watching tiny bits flake, the rest too baked into the wood to come up. There wasn’t a trail, but the sheer amount of blood suggested a corpse. Or it was a hunting trophy, Mama Bon Bon talked about those being a thing, though he’d never seen one. But then, how would the hunter have brought the dead animal in? He was starting to regret not paying more attention to Mama Bon Bon while she was solving those neat murder mystery radio shows.

Whatever the case, if there was blood, regardless of how old it was, the area wasn’t safe. Which meant he needed to find his sibling. That _would_ have been easy had it not been for the fact that his Domain was unreachable. More than that, he’d never heard of something capable of keeping Domains away from their children. Was he more vulnerable? Was he back alive? He was still dressed in the clothes his Domain gifted to him, and when he charged a shot, it still sang of his Domain’s power. Letting it fizzle out, he continued scavenging for anything useful, finding nothing but bugs and stains that told a gruesome story.

“Cuphead?”

Immediately, the red deity turned on his heel—the desk he’d been lifting wasn’t near as important as the owner of that voice—and hurried over to the entrance. Hopping through the broken portion because opening the door wouldn’t have been fun, he spied a big sign with a weathered map under it. The sign’s letters were all but a distant memory, but the map had been etched into wood so it faired better. He’d take the time to read it later, for now, he wanted to find where the voice had come from.

Instinct was keeping him from calling out, something in the air felt much like corrupted Inkwell had. It was dangerous in that area, and he wondered how his brother wasn’t feeling it either to be calling out to him even the one time he had. Perhaps not having the shadows made him more willing to risk it to find his brother? Or maybe he knew something the red deity didn’t. The Scales had always been much more observant so he wouldn’t be shocked if his brother did indeed know what had happened.

Circling the building he discovered a cluster of equally decrepit wooden cabins. It looked like their glory days were a hundred years ago with how rotted and slumped some of them were. Not to mention the wet smell of decaying wood permeating the air. He walked a little into the area, following the overgrown path just past the first cabin when finally blue and white trot out from behind one of the furthest cabins. Interestingly, he was holding a plate with something that jiggled in a manner only those gelatin treats Bon Bon made could. But that wasn’t what caught the red deities attention at first. No, no it was the blue shorts and black shirt, the same outfit his brother had worn in life. Despite knowing his own brother was fine, it still sent a bolt of unhealed, raw emotion through him. He froze, stumbling a little at the sight of a brother that wasn’t his, was very much alive, and had spotted him in return.

But much like the red deity, the blue mortal paused rather than got closer, brows furrowed, mouth pulled in a slight frown. More worrisome was that the red deity couldn’t quite read what that frown meant. If it was pure confusion, that was good. If it was anything else, he was in danger, and it wasn’t even his own brother. He plead internally that the blue mortal’s alternate wasn’t cruel and hadn’t done anything to warrant an irate brother in blue recently.

“Heya!” The red deity raised a hand and waved, biting the bullet. The other jolted, face morphing to one of surprise, that was good, so the red deity continued. “Don’t think we’re on Inkwell anymore!” He tossed in a light grin, just to cinch it. “I mean… Our Inkwells… Ha… you know, because you’re definitely not my brother… you aren’t dead and all… “

No one ever called the red deity eloquent or silver tongued.

They likely never would.

The great news is when his true deity brother heard what he said he’d laugh to the point of tears. The bad news was that was in the future, and the mute shock was in the now. And mute shock on one who was wielding a plate was not good. Especially not when the fish shaped gelatin started wiggling harder.

A very wiggly fish was infinitely bad news.

Actually, now that he got a better look, it had weird chunks in it. And he _swore_ he heard soft chanting coming from that general direction. Apparently the blue mortal did too, tearing his eyes away from the deity in red to look towards his plate.

And because things couldn’t continue to be simply just oddly chanting gelatin, one of the doors in the second to last cabin burst open, revealing what had to be the most horrifying beast the red deity had ever seen. Its faults and sins would have sent it to the center of the planet had that weight been tangible. It was wiry and covered in sallow flesh and patches of matted fur that stank of gore. Its chest had what appeared to be thick ice over the ribcage that jut out from the near nonexistent stomach. But its limbs were clearly not weakened by the body’s emaciation. The red deity wished more than ever that his Domain was there, if only because it would have _loved_ the meal. But he didn’t have his Domain with him, and worse, he wasn’t the target.

No, it picked where the odd chanting was coming from, where the _very, very mortal brother in blue was._

The blue _mortal_ looked between the creature now turned fully in his direction, and the plate. The creature moved, faster than the red deity could even see, faster than any of them could see, and swung an arm up to take a swipe, aware it had an easy kill before it and savoring the look, whatever it was. The red deity had a judgement shot charged, hands crackling with power, he took aim.

“Would you like some?” The blue mortal held the plate up towards the thing, bright blue eyes practically aglow with innocence. Both the creature and the red deity hesitated, the red deity more out of disbelief than anything, and the creature because the thing presented to it was clearly moving on its own.

The plate jiggled violently, the gelatin—that the red deity would later see the recipe for and balk at the inclusion of shrimp and tuna shreds and pimento and slaw mixed into tomato gelatin—bubbled, then rose up on its tail fin. Within it’s now glowing body, the souls of sacrificed sealife and gelatin locked metaphorical eyes with the creature, and _lunged_.

“Revenge!!” The thing shrieked, attaching to the creatures face and _growing_.

The creature howled, scratching at its face, but the gelatin was slicker and faster, squeezing into its nasal cavity with ease, going for the eyes with its hellishly sharp fins. The body began to sizzle, flesh under it being eaten by acid wherever it made contact. The creature wailed, the blue mortal dove off to the side, still holding the plate, by instinct at this point most likely.

With shared horror, they watched the gelatin fish grow bigger the more it devoured the flesh and bone of the one under it, little shrimp corpses gaining more and more of a red hue while the tuna turned violet. The red deity still aware the alternate across from him was mortal and much more fragile, carefully edged closer, hugging the cabins in case he had to duck in or yank a door off for something to throw.

He didn’t get too close, mostly because the narrow-eyed glare was a face any Cuphead worth their name should know to be synonymous with danger. It wasn’t directed at him, but he wasn’t stupid. He was the only red brother in the immediate vicinity, which meant he had to start working right then and there on any amount of proof he could give that no, he wasn’t the others sibling and thus any retribution should wait for said sibling.

More the pity that he couldn’t remember how to deal with an irate mortal sibling.

The gelatin fish, now the size of the creature that had towered over them, lumbered over to the tense red deity and the stagnant blue mortal. They all sort of blinked at one another in a moment of silence until the blob stuck a wiggly piece of slaw out at the blue mortal and in the deepest voice either of them had ever heard, spoke.

**“Mother.”**

Later, the red deity would claim the deep voice had startled him. He wouldn’t say that the immediate look of horror warring with murder made him fear so deeply for his own afterlife that he just opened fire on the thing. His charged shot tore it apart, sending chunks of possessed food everywhere. In the same move he shot the thing, he grabbed the blue mortals arm and hauled him closer so his own body could shield the other. A filthy brother in blue was a malcontent brother in blue.

As bits rained around them, to the point where the red deity dragged the too-angry-to-move-independently mortal into a nearby cabin. Amidst the sounds of the grossest rain ever rained, the red deity started to speak his theories and just hoped he was at the very least endearing enough or different enough to not outright murder.

“Okay so on my Inkwell there are a bunch of gods and one of them scrys or reads different futures or alternate realities that are unique in their own way like if someone made a different decision and sort of recently I fell into it during a real nasty situation and long story short I think the well or the god that scrys has something to do with this but I can’t be sure because my brother and I weren’t anywhere near close to Inkwell and I know this is confusing I mean I’m confused and I might know more I don’t know don’t kill me but if that’s the case then it means our actual siblings should or could be around did I say don’t kill me because I meant don’t quote me I’m definitely dead already and definitely not your brother and you should not do what you’re maybe thinking to do on me because I heard my brother say revenge gets sweeter the longer it sits.” No pauses, no breaks, he did it in a half whispered half panicked voice, face aglow with red, hands waving wildly with his speech.

The blue mortal slowly blinked but once at him, soaking in the words, taking their meaning in, and the shift happened right before the red deities eyes. The hostile air turned bright and curious and it was great that the other couldn’t hear the weak screaming the red deity was doing in his head.

“Oh! That’s quite odd, ours just told us how many times the debtors kicked us around. Though I have my doubts on its accuracy because there’s no way Cagney nearly killed me twelve times.”

“He what.”

“Whatever it is I hope Elder Kettle is alright, I had been pulling that out of the fridge when I blinked and was here instead.”

“No, can you say that thing about Cagney again?”

“Goodness I sure hope we don’t run into any more of those creatures. Ah, but what if one finds my brother before I can—” The blue mortal stopped before the next word, eyes flickering to a glacial blue just briefly before he recovered like a professional and went for the door as the raining gelatin had stopped. The red deity followed immediately, moving ahead on more instinct than anything. He covered it by gesturing to the map with an arm thrown out much more dramatically than it really needed to.

“There’s a map, we can read it, see if there’s something interesting on it and go from there! My brother’s probably bunkered down somewhere so we should look for buildings first.” He said, vaguely recalling little symbols resembling houses on the etching. The blue mortal didn’t question him, simply nodded and followed easily behind.

In the back of the red deities mind he knew he’d basically thrown another version of himself to the dogs but frankly… worth it. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The blue deity rolled over, displeased with the noise above him disturbing his nap. Something wet dripped onto his shoulder and he blearily opened one eye, one hand reached up to move the thing away.

“Prank me later.” He murmured.

The thing above him that he though was a prankster, rustled, and felt smooth with very fine hairs. Confused, as no one he knew felt like that, he opened his eyes fully, and the massive spider above him arched up, taking his movement as a threat. For a blissful moment, the spider was confident it would scare the intruder away. That blissful moment ended in a blazing inferno of gold so immediately hot it didn’t actually know anything beyond said blissful moment. The blue deity let out a pathetically high pitched whine from his chest, looking at his hand as if contemplating breaking it off and just figuring out how to get a new one. Instead, the fire wrapped around his hand, searing any lingering feeling of the hairs and the mandible.

It also burned away the venom that had dripped onto his shoulder.

He sat up, and realized the noise wasn’t just from the bonfire before him. Oh no, no no, he was den, in a building of brick.

As he walked rather mechanically out the door, he pondered the merits of claiming he’d made the worlds largest brick oven. He supposed Mama Bon Bon would find it as a challenge, but that could be fun. He’d have to tell her after he made sure whoever put him in that new oven suffered. Whether by his brother’s hand, the other gods hands, or—if it was his brother that had done it, _his own hands._

But those were silly dark thoughts that weren’t helping him figure out why he was in a ghost town of all places. He certainly hadn’t been in one earlier. He also couldn’t hear his Domain at all, not the rustle of fur and sand, not the waters, nothing, even when he called. His shadow didn’t melt, and there wasn’t an ink demon hiding in it. He knew that much because if the two had been there he wouldn’t have woken up to spiders.

But they also would have chewed up whoever moved him…and his brother who had been nearby.

So he couldn’t get to his Domain, but he’d called up his fire. When he pulled on the strings to the scales, he felt them, but only through a haze. They were closer to him than his Domain, but not accessable, not without severe strain or breaking through whatever was stopping him. That left him with his fire. Well, he guessed it could have been worse.

The place he was in looked like a tiny town made up of seven or so remaining buildings. They varied from brick to wood with the wood being worse off. It looked as if they had been cared for up to a decade or so ago. Some were beginning to lean, others had great patches in their roof or on their walls. And as he entered the general store—having to step over the sign as it was in a broken mess on the stairs and front porch—it hadn’t been abandoned peacefully.

Blood, scratch marks, gouges with bits of nail still stuck in them, broken shelves and goods scattered about. He grimaced at the smell, already turning on his heel to leave, when he heard a tiny cooing noise. He froze, one foot raised and ready to step back out, arm out, ready to move the remains of the door away again. His head turned, eyes scanning the dim interior. The cooing noise turned into noises of an infant in distress, and he hurriedly began to trot through the ruined store, peering under larger chunks and frowning when he didn’t find anything, not until he got to the very back of the store.

There, bright pearly white porcelain shone like a star, augmented further by teary red eyes, and a scruffy red onesie. The blue deity, in some far away part of his mind, was glad his brother wasn’t around to hear the admittedly embarrassing noise he made at the sight of the tiny baby wiggling around on what appeared to be the only clean patch of the store. Immediately he scooped the infant up, smiling as warmly as he could as he held the infant to his face so the other could see him better and hopefully become less distressed.

The infant, on the cusp of full on crying, gave a teeny sniffle, reaching one absolutely precious hand out to touch the blue deities nose, then his cheeks, running along thick lashes, up further until a tiny hand was batting at the blue and white striped straw. The blue deity actually had to hold him higher so he wouldn’t see the adoring tears building from being exposed to the perfection that was his baby brother. He started walking, letting the infant play with the straw, then the linen and charm on his handle, then his golden shawl.

Back in the light of the afternoon sun, he got a much better look. It really was a bit of a scruffy onesie, but that was due to the infant’s adventurous ways. Even as the blue deity began to wander about the small number of buildings, carefully listening for any noises, the baby started to squirm, looking around for his own baby brother most likely. The blue deity cooed, talking softly to him as he too searched. As long as he kept the infant relatively content, he’d be happy until he could find the other one.

But in the first four he looked in, there was nothing but dangerous floors and more signs of struggles for survival. The infant was set down at one point onto a soft patch of grass by one of the buildings, giving them a bit of protection from any prying eyes as the blue deity began to turn his shawl into a wrap that he could place the infant safely into once energy had been worked off. The tiny pinnacle of perfection kept finding odd things and bringing them back to him, sometimes frowning when he didn’t give the right response, smiling when he did, getting a glint in his eye when the reaction was interesting.

“You are perfect and anything that tries to hurt you will die a death they’ll wish they never faced.” The blue deity vowed adoringly after an odd-looking coin was presented to him. The infant only grinned wide, pleased with the warm tone and response to the gift. But that wasn’t the only one to offer a gift to, oh no, there was the other one behind the blue one.

The blue deity frowned, unsure why the air beside him was being offered a smooth pebble, then there was a wave of _weight_ and the infant wasn’t even sure how it was tucked into the pretty gold stuff wrapped around the blue one but it was. The thing, a centaur with a bear for a lower half, charged through, equally stunned that its prey was now on the roof of the nearby brick building.

Bright, _vicious_ gold burned into the centaur, a hand pressed to the infant to keep its squirming to a minimum. Normally the blue deity would have just asked his Domain to take care of the infant or the threat, but he couldn’t reach his Domain. Whatever the case, the thing below him seemed to believe he had walked into its territory. Or it was utterly dense and didn’t realize he wouldn’t make a good meal. No matter what, it could have hurt the baby. The infant was placed down on the roof, the blue deity hopeful that the raised edge would be enough to keep the baby safe. He left it with his shawl so the baby could play with the sheer, metallic fabric, and stepped off.

Mama Bon Bon had told him the exact amount of pressure one needed to snap joints.

Mama Bon Bon hadn’t lied.

He made Mama Bon Bon proud in that moment. And Auntie Rumor. Possibly Aunt Sally, it was hard to say when he told her later.

When he returned to the roof, he found the baby helplessly entangled in the fabric, but flat out asleep, snoozing away in the sunlight. The roof bore witness to a deity ranting softly to himself for not having access to a camera for a solid five minutes. With great care, the infant was picked up and secured around the blue deities chest, safely bundled and softly cooing on the smooth scaled chest armor the blue deity wore.

He wasn’t sure where he was, and he’d yet to find a map, but that was fine, he had a few more buildings to try, then it was off to the ruins of other buildings, then it was to the surrounding area. He didn’t worry for his brother, confident he was fine, just as he was sure the baby’s brother in blue was fine as well.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

A red mortal porcelain teen sat up on a bed that not only wasn’t his, but one that reacted to his movement by hacking out the most dust the other had ever seen in his short years on Inkwell. It was awe inspiring and gag inducing how much dust wheezed out of broken springs and threadbare fabric held together by rat corpses and the brown flaky stuff etched into the springs. The red mortal shot away from the bed, right for the window that he spied through squinted eyes. He tried to throw the latch but not only was it rusted shut, it was flat out nailed closed. Further still were the bars outside the window. Not that that stopped the desperate mortal. He just threw an elbow at the glass, shattering it and getting as close to the bars as he could, anything to evade the dust and hopefully air out the room.

It was horrifying how breaking the dingy, gross glass, shed more light on the worlds first and largest dust collection. The red mortal wheezed, hoping desperately that the dust hadn’t gotten into his soul liquid, he didn’t feel like hacking filthy soul liquid out of his mouth again.

In the better light, he got a clearer look at his new surroundings. He’d been waiting for his brother to finish up the monstrosity of a recipe he’d found. And this one was a real doozy of one, it had drained all the color from his siblings face when he’d seen it. Whether that was because it was to be frosted with mayonnaise frosting he didn’t know. But what he did know was this wasn’t his home, and it certainly wasn’t Inkwell.

Inkwell didn’t have a sea of trees, it just had an ocean. It didn’t have any buildings this bad off either. He stared at the trees in dumb confusion, slowly taking in his new surroundings but hardly believing what he was seeing. He knew it wasn’t water, that it wasn’t Isle Three under Cagney’s tender care. It didn’t settle in his mind until a good five minutes after the initial rush. Once it did, he turned away, ready to find his brother and demand he tell him how the prank was done. Because that’s what it had to be. Despite Mugman not being the type to prank on this scale, he did have a mean streak every now and again.

Alas, there was no blue brother snickering at his response, nor was there one gagging on the dust. He wasn’t hiding under the bed—but a corpse was and _that_ earned a high-pitched shriek he dearly hoped no one was around to hear. After that equally unpleasant surprise he started to get worried. By now his brother always gave up if it was a prank, he was horrible at holding in laughter when it came to getting his poor older twin brother to scream. The fact that he wasn’t showing up meant he wasn’t the one who’d put the red mortal there, which meant there was no brother, which meant it could have been revenge from the Devil.

Perhaps it was revenge for that one time he raked in enough money to make King Dices eye twitch. If it was, he wasn’t above shooting the fur clean off Devil’s bones because in no way was the red mortal finding this funny. Especially since his brother was missing too. The hope was that he was actually still cooking at home and would come to fetch him from the casino, find Devil laughing about the trick he’d pulled, skin him, and get the red mortal back. That was of course, if the brother in blue hadn’t been taken as well, and the red mortal wasn’t one for gambling his siblings safety anymore. Not since the last go at it left them in heavy debt and going through Porkrinds glue stock by Isle two.

Whatever the case, he needed to find his way out or find his brother, whichever came first. Which meant leaving the filthy room. Something that was expedited by the odd scratching that began at the door. Like nails, but more dry in places, wet in others, scratching at the door, incessantly. Low, near the base of the door rather than the handle. The red mortal, already suitably jumpy in this new unknown environment, chanted in his mind that he’d absolutely kicked the ass of plenty of scary things, thus, whatever was behind that door was nothing. Because what could top a twenty foot tall flower or a gorgon mermaid or ghost rats?

He opened the door, chest puffed, ready to show whatever was there that he’d beaten the literal Devil, and nothing was scary after doing something that cool.

The eyeless corpse lifted its head as if it could see him, and shredded, mummified cheeks crackled as muscles that weren’t there still somehow managed to make the green-grey flesh smile. The red mortal let out a very quiet “Oh.”, lifted his hand, shot the thing with a shotgun shot, and equally softly closed the door again. Sliding down the door, he didn’t realize he was letting out a sustained high noise until it was answered by a very quiet shuffle. He flumped to the ground on his side, eyes wide, noise cutting off.

The thing under the bed, which had been facing him earlier when he was by the window, now stared at him from the other side of the bed, now closer to the door.

Let it be known that the one who’d handled the ghosts in those mausoleums had been his younger twin. Let it be further understood that the red mortal had never once gotten up, opened a door, leapt over the remains of the first corpse, turned back around, slammed the door, and moved to the end of the hallway so fast in his life. He didn’t stop at the end of the hall either, he just returned to his senses by that stage and moved quieter, stealthy now that he’d rattled off the initial panic.

He wandered, peering down halls before turning corners in case something was waiting around them. He didn’t run into anything else until he reached the front lobby where two corpses were standing side by side. He threw himself back away from the railing overlooking the lobby. They hadn’t seen him all the way on the second floor, but that was because they were too focused on something else. Cautiously, he edged to the railing again, shifting until he could start going down the stairs so he could figure out what they were looking at. If it was just another corpse, that was fine, he could probably sneak around them and get out the front door twenty feet away from them. If not, there was always the shotgun shot, ever ready for service.

As he got closer, thankful for his lighter weight and wonderfully carpeted stairs that didn’t squeak despite their clear age, he spied a splash of bright blue that just didn’t match the surrounding dust field. Closer still, and at a better angle, he froze, hands around the railing bars to keep stable, crouched low to hide as much as possible behind the railing bars.

Blue and white, tiny, with stains on patched knees and a smear of something dark on a soft cheek, being hovered over by two corpses that were at present cooing at the teeny infant. Which, sure, the red mortal may have been tossing around ‘aww’s here or there, had it not been for the fact that they were hovering over his brother who’d apparently been turned into an infant.

“Awwww.” Said the first corpse, wiggling the remains of their pocket watch chain over the tiny thing to keep its big blue eyes focused on them.

“Ow! Son of a bi—” Said the second as a blur of black and red fury descended on it with hands alight with magic that not only shredded through its’ flesh but bit into its soul as well.

The first would have questioned the exclamation, but it was awful hard to speak when being showered with a hail of gunfire that somehow managed to hit every single painful spot before hitting a blow that sent the shade inhabiting the body right to the afterlife.

The red mortal stood, body rattling under the weight of his wrath, soul steaming to a rolling boil, face bloomed brilliant red. He stared at the remains, waiting for the sorry souls to try moving again or going for his actual baby brother. He didn’t move until he was confident they weren’t going to, and then he found himself the sole focus of the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. The baby peered up at him, an itty bitty frown on his little face. His head tilted, straw sliding to the lower side, and the red mortal slowly mirrored him, cooling off the longer he searched for any injuries and found nothing.

Finally, the infant held his arms up, making grabby motions at the other. The red mortal dipped down, crouching before the infant to pick him up and let the baby get a better look at him while he returned the favor. The baby put the smallest hand the red mortal had ever seen on his face, pushing at the still heated porcelain with his icy little palm. So the infant had been distressed. His brother was naturally colder, but it was never this icy unless he was agitated or afraid. He turned sharply on his heel, going for the front desk so he could get away from any prying eyes.

The front door had no floor a good four feet in front of it, and he wasn’t keen on jumping that now that he had very fragile cargo.

“Hey!” He spoke quietly, watching blue eyes watch him. “It’s me, your literal big brother! Those jerks weren’t being nice, but that’s okay, I’m here now. You’ll be safe with me, no need to spread frost everywhere!” He kept his voice soft and low, letting the infant keep a tiny hand on his face in the hopes that all he was looking for was reassurance that it was indeed his sibling. “I don’t know who got in their head to turn you into this but don’t you worry. I can fix it, big brothers do that, you know.”

He gave the baby a small grin, and just about melted with relief as it was returned by a tiny coo and a bright smile. He lowered the infant so the other was pressed closer to his chest where he’d be better protected. The red mortal didn’t have anything to hold the blue infant with and no easy exit. Not unless he wanted to cause a whole heap of noise in a place that definitely had activity in it. He may be impulsive, but the impulse control was a hyper fragile infant now and there wasn’t a chance in the world he was risking acting stupid or brash right now.

He’d have to go back into the hotel—the keys he looted from the front desk told him as much even if he’d hadn’t guessed while passing numbered doors—to find a new exit or a safe place to bunker down until someone found them. At the very least he wanted something to better hold the blue baby to him, though he seemed to be doing plenty fine holding onto his black shirt. Big blue eyes alternated between looking up at him, their surroundings, then anything else interesting, then back to him, all the while.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The possessed looked around the patch of forest he’d found himself in. Looking down at himself, he spied nothing immediately wrong with his blue porcelain host. A host who was actually still asleep, resting alongside his tragically unlucky red brother. Which was good because if his host had been awake he’d have seen the trees and no red brother and would have panicked and he _really_ didn’t need that right now. Not when it was lost, and worse, had no link to Hell. There was no steady song returned to him, no call answered, nothing.

He’d have been impressed if he wasn’t thrown off by not having something that had been with him since the beginning. His first course of action was sending the physical body of the pitchfork up higher to scan surroundings unhindered by trees. The sight of more trees was less than pleasing, regardless of how lovely the afternoon sun shone over the ocean of greenery was. It meant he wasn’t in Inkwell. Wasn’t anywhere near Inkwell, perhaps even on the mainland. But if he was, he’d have heard Hell, and Hell would have recalled him and his host immediately. It would sooner spit out holy fire than let something take its oldest partner away from it.

Had something powerful enough to send it to a new place circumvented the binding he had with Hell? That alone got him keeping a sharp eye out for whatever was that strong. He liked the current host, and wasn’t keen on losing a body to some random enemy with that sort of impressive power. Especially since that meant he’d have failed his deal and that wouldn’t fly, taking him out as well as the host or binding the soul of the host to him, something he _really_ didn’t want.

However, on the forest floor some feet below him, there was nothing too interesting other than some stray wildlife that didn’t notice him up in his perch. There he sat, pondering the many things that could have happened in the brief instant he’d not been paying attention to what had to be the most danger prone host in all of Inkwell. He sat still as life wandered around him.

He sat still as odd wildlife wandered. Strange centaur creatures he’d never seen before, or massive basilisks slithering through thick grass. On the off occasion, a grudge spirit would wander by, or a cannibalistic beast that wasn’t ever pleasant to deal with. None noticed him, he didn’t allow it, refusing to risk surprise attacks while his mind strolled on the track of possibilities. The only good thing about his current situation was that his host was asleep, and that wasn’t saying much considering the possessed would love to at least have someone to bounce ideas off of. Waking the host up was unacceptable however, so he settled further into the shadows of the green foliage around him, content to remain where he was a little longer until something happened.

That something turned out to be a rather large amount of noise and a wash of hellish fire the possessed recognized, but also didn’t recognize. It was like seeing an unfamiliar face answer to a familiar name, jarring and odd. Enough to make the possessed shift towards the noise, displeased that the forest blocked him in too much to see anything. A flicker of power later that ate up far more energy than it should have, and the possessed was on the ground, a bit staggered by the surprising drain.

No warping, the message was received and understood loud and clear. There was no way he was risking that level of drain again. He started walking instead, heading towards the source of the noises and hellfire tinged with power only the possessed wielded. He kept his movement smooth and swift to avoid attracting attention, not that he really thought anything would focus on him what with how much commotion was going on ahead.

Closer and closer until finally, he spotted it. Or rather, he figured out what was going on, and felt his borrowed soul drop.

Before him, an alternate version of the hosts brother, wielding the fire exclusive to a pitchfork, stood before the smoldering remains of a few of the centaurs and two basilisks he’d seen earlier. Smoke rose around the other, heat radiating off the pitchfork as the borrowed body hissed with malcontent. The possessed crossed his arms over his chest, leaned one shoulder on the nearest tree, and pondered the old warnings about staying in hosts so long their personalities soaked into the possessor.

It took a good handful of seconds, but finally, the pitchfork noticed the possessed. The borrowed blue eyes blinked slowly, but once, and a different yet same unholy weapon flashed into full view, fading away again after the others borrowed red eyes went wide.

“Aaaaugh! It had to be alternate realities!” The red clad alternate shout, throwing its hands up and turning the body to face the possessed. The message was received, but it was hilarious how the other appeared to cease the loud show of force now that the possessed was around. Though, the fact that he found that hilarious was put into question because he was only now realizing that he’d taken that stance out of borrowed habit.

“Same, but maybe taking it out on the wildlife isn’t the smartest idea.” He intoned, eyebrows arched. The pitchfork glanced at the pile a mite bit bashfully, then faced him again. It wildly gestured to the pile and spoke.

“I’m not the one that started it, just the one that ended it.” The indignation was actually a bit hilarious, and the possessed had to bite his lip to keep from outright laughing. The other’s brows furrowed, head tilted, red straw slid as the other tried to figure out the reason for the mirth, then, understanding dawned a bit, and the shoulders slumped.

“I’ve been in this body way too long…” It said, tone tinged with the slightest bit of horror. The possessed snort, his shoulders arched up a bit, and he nodded. The pitchfork in red squint.

“So have you though.”

“Yes, but I intend on staying in this one, he’s fun despite the ruthlessness he plays blackjack.”

“Oh? Yeah I don’t blame you, you picked the right one. That one you’ve got has been nothing but mayhem and trouble.”

“And yours has been impressive in his ability to adapt.”

The two paused, realizing they were doing what the siblings likely would have done, and both took but a moment to wonder if they’d be stuck with borrowed personalities permanently or just a while. Then the possessed moved, going back straight, brushing bits of bark from his sleeve.

“Well that mystery solved, I think I’ll keep taking a look around, good luck.” With a quick turn, he was heading back into the forest, curiosity sated, but the need to find his way back home growing. Not five steps later he had a companion. His lashes lowered, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in amusement. Unnatural violet glanced at unnatural mahogany who refused to look back, simply continuing his pace beside him.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d decided to follow the first interesting thing to show before you showed up?” The pitchfork said, bashful in tone only. The possessed hummed in response, amusement dripping from his frame. “Because that’s definitely the reason.”

“Of course.” The possessed indulged.

The pair lapsed into silence, walking wherever their feet carried them, unable to do much else without seeing any landmarks. One remaining amused but amiable, the other pretending its actions were definitely not because of inherited traits from a snoozing host.

Definitely.

“So did yours make the deal?”

“No.”

“That’s the same then. Can you get to Hell?”

“Would I be here if I could?”

“Depends on how much you’ve gotten from that one, and what’s this about blackjack?”

“Look, the only warning I’m going to give you is never, and I mean _never_ take this one on in a game of blackjack, or craps. Not if you want to keep your pride in tact. He thinks I lied about being good at these game.”

“Really!” The pitchfork whistled, happy to have a conversation that wasn’t tinged with suspicion or saccharine malice. The possessed found it amusing how easy the other’s host was to read, but then, his was probably just as easy.

“You ever have your pride crushed by someone not even considered an adolescent by their own species?” Was it embarrassing to admit he hadn’t won any but the first game? Yes, but it was worth it if it kept the other from acting out its frustration and worry on the wildlife. The possessed didn’t want to think about how annoying it would be to have to deal with an exhausted alternate in an unknown world with zero other possible allies or aides who could assist in returning home.

“That’s bad, but this one’s actual brother won’t quit making my job a nightmare. Never once did I think I’d have to go mortal wrangling.” The mahogany one answered with a tired note to its voice akin to a chaperone expressing the pains of corralling a bunch of tiny gremlins. Or in its case, one big gremlin. The two continued talking, lamenting or teasing or agreeing at various points. The possessed was glad for it, so long with Hell’s voice nearby, the silence would have been misery. The pitchfork seemed to understand that though, because it didn’t stray from him. Nor did it sound as agitated as before, settled and levelheaded once more. And wasn’t that an interesting thing! The possessed sort of hoped he would be able to observe a little longer because it was fascinating to see just how much personality from the hosts he and it had soaked in.

That’d make casino life _grand_ with mayhem, that was for damn sure. Both hosts who were asleep, and neither was keen on letting that change, regardless of the few creatures that still tried to approach them. The pitchfork handled it first, never breaking stride or acknowledging it had just removed a grudge spirit from the face of existence after the thing had tried going after the possessed who had been talking about something else, pretending to not be paying attention.

Neither could see anything too interesting, not until a path began to emerge alongside them through the foliage. Without missing a beat, they shifted angle until they were on it, and pressed on from there, pace easy. A peek above the thick trees showed more than just a path however, it was a road they’d found, and it was one that led up towards cabins, and down towards a hotel. They chose the hotel on the hope that a bigger building meant more chances of finding answers that were intact. The lack of mortals outside of creatures also didn’t go over their heads, there was a tint of death in the air that no amount of nature could hide from the borrowers.

It was a fog of negative emotions ranging from pain to despair to fury that only grew thicker the closer they got to the building.

Really, it almost reminded them of home.

They just hoped it would have the same answers Hell would have had, or at least something other than hostile predators who had the survival instincts of lemmings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's grown and grows more still. Is this cover for the writers block i have for other things? Yes. But it's also fun so ey. This may wind up being four chapters if it keeps growing like it is. But that's what happens when you're writing something fun! I can't pick which pair i find funniest interacting together. But for this chapter i'd argue deity Cuphead and chef mortal whatever Mugman simply because deity Cuphead has exactly zero tact.   
> Which pair is your favorite? Or do you have multiples?   
> Originally Deity Cup was going to be with possessed Mugs, but then i decided that no, i really wanted the one shot cooking with regret versions in here too because they're closest to the originals outside of the mage versions and it'd be hilarious. Part of me wonders what it would be like for the different king dices or Devil's to meet up but that would only end in unbelievable chaos no world would be able to survive.


	3. Quartet 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part alone was 5k words and since i'm happy with it, it's going up. Unfortunately, this means it's more than 3 chapters. Oops.

The Knight and the mer stared at a spot.

Not because it was particularly riveting.

Certainly not because it was important or world changing.

In fact, one was even a bit hostile in his stare; but the other? The other thought nothing of the spot, idly wondering when the displeased Knight would realize a thing.

The spot they were staring at was the only exit they could see out of the portion of mine they were in. They’d searched all over—and in that time the Knight once more thanked his porcelain body not having muscles and thus not getting exhausted from carrying the none too light mer around. There was no other exit, no way for the Knight to have even gotten into that portion of the cave, and the Mer hadn’t been in that spot when waking up either.

Water wasn’t usually a problem for porcelain when taking quick dips, but those porcelain types weren’t wearing wool gambesons and carrying a heavy mer around. The water was a void, infinitely dark to the one not born in water, and certainly impossible to get through with all his stuff on him likely to catch. That meant he’d have to hope the mer could get through and then find another way, or hope the mer didn’t get stuck where he couldn’t help. Or get caught by more annoying beasties. Or get hurt more than he already was. It was right about the fourth looping thought about keeping the mer safe that the Knight figured he had hit the end of his patience at being split from his brother.

The mer however, was starting to get a bit exasperated, and began to squirm. He paused when the arms tightened around his waist, and then flopped limply over the others shoulder. Blue stared at the hellish brigandine, examining it as the Knight began to pace, likely trying to see further into the depths without tipping too far and accidentally dropping the mer. The mer, quite fed up with the silly display, started plucking at the straps of the Knights swords. With deft fingers, the knots were eased and the first sword fell easily into his grip. He looked at it, looked at the brigandine, nodded, and shoved the sword, scabbard and all, into the piece of armor.

The brigandine ate it, storing it away plainly, very likely finding the Knights abrupt flailing equally hilarious. The mers tail lashed, bapping the Knight in the face softly to get him to knock it off and let go finally as the long sword was put away as well. There was no need for them now, and the Knight was correct in that there were definitely places it would catch, the water told the mer so. He began to wiggle again until finally he was set down and immediately he began unlatching the brigandine. If the Knight was afraid of swelling coverings, the brigandine would hold them until he got out of the water. The chainmail was interesting, like metal scales that shone quite pleasantly. Did the mer get a bit distracted and play with the loops of metal? Yes. Would anyone believe the Knight if he said anything about it? Only the mers brother, and frankly the mer had enough dirt on his brother that it wouldn’t matter.

The chainmail was removed by a very confused land walker, and then the brigandine ate it. It ate the gambeson too, and then it refit itself to be snug against the undershirt, and finally, the mer nodded, quite pleased with his accomplishment. Next up was leaning closer to the pool and listening to the voices telling him about the passage. The Knight frowned at him when he looked back and pointed down into the pool, confident now that they’d be quite fine. Did the Knight not want to go in? That was fine, the mer was absolutely used to dragging unwilling souls into the drink for his own brother to maul and devour. This one would just be one of those that survived, the mer would make sure of that. Mostly because it was hilarious. He reached back up, nails digging a bit into the brigandine so he could haul his upper half closer. When the Knight grabbed his elbows to stabilize him, he smiled a fang filled smile, grabbed the other with a near breaking grip, and next thing the Knight knew he was in the drink.

In the water, the blue of the mer almost seemed to glow a delicate shade of blue, casting the faintest of light over their dark surroundings. The mer may, or may not, have basked a little, letting his poor dry tail soak up as much of the water as possible before he grabbed the other, held him close and began to swim. It was odd having a passenger not meant to be drowned. Really it was best the Knight looked like the mers brother, or the mer would probably have forgotten and accidentally drowned the land walker. But he didn’t! Even when he had to shove the other through thinner portions of the passage.

He couldn’t dally, had to get the other out before the red soul liquid tinting the water got too thin. It was easy with his powerful tail to cart the other to the other side and shove him out onto the moss covered rock. The mer chose to remain half submerged, letting his upper half rest on the rock next to the Knight spitting and hacking water gracelessly out onto the floor. The Knight, after a few vaguely embarrassing moments, _squint_ at the mer, and the mer just beamed back, pleased as could be.

The mer didn’t want to, but time was wasting and manager was likely getting antsy. So, quite demandingly, he began to climb back up the Knight regardless of how ready the other was. The Knight made a funny screeching noise followed by all manner of exasperated sounds, but warm porcelain hands were back on his waist, his tail was wrapped safely around the other’s hips, and the sword was spat out onto the knights hip, secured before it even fell under gravity again. With that, they were off, the Knight deciding to put the gambeson and chainmail on when he was more dry.

They walked, the steady noise of heels pressing down moss on damp rock following them. Every so often the mers tail would flick, but mostly he draped, basking in the warmth the brigandine gave off seemingly for him. They turned a few corners, crossed a junction, found the remains of a mine cart, which was the most exciting thing that happened since the water passage.

Up until there came a whisper. A whisper of movement that the Knight didn’t seem to hear. But the mer couldn’t miss it and perked up, shifting his weight and making the Knight huff in surprise. The mer lifted his tail, smacking it over the Knights face to try and get him to be quiet so he could listen closer, leaning further into the tunnel to their left in the crossroads they’d come to. Another whisper of movement, closer this time, now with an edge of a hunters thrill to it. The mer’s eyes narrowed to slits, it wasn’t like the enemies previous. It was bigger, a creature of the deep that was used to being top of the food chain in its domain, the very one the two were intruding in.

As the Knight peeled the tail from his face, he spied the alternate of his brother trying to pierce the darkness of the unlit path, tilting his head this way and that as if to listen. He wasn’t sure why until the bells on the spears summoning bracelet rang out. To the dead, it was a cold warning of imminent failure if approach was continued, but the beast still hidden by shadows didn’t heed it, confidence guiding it closer. 

Finally, as the mers’ tail tightened to uncomfortable levels around the Knights waist, the Knight figured the best option was to call upon the spear and launch it down the path while backing into the previous tunnel they’d just come from. The golden spear illuminated what poor lights couldn’t, a beacon casting abstract shadows down the corridor until it pierced a wall of shadow that jerked on impact. Aim forever true, the light grew, the spear fighting against the creature with the same determined aggression that its original Lady was famous for. But the creature wasn’t common.

Years upon years of gluttonous devouring of souls lost to the mines countless tragedies. Gorging and feeding until its bulbous body could only fit in the lower tunnels where the most excavation had been completed. Stick thin arms, too many to count, shifted out, giving it the ability to move along the wall where it had been steadily growing closer. Now though, it fell to the floor, body undulating with discomfort as the spear’s light continued to grow.

Where the light grew brighter, the Knight grew paler, fully aware even without a passenger, something like the amalgamation before them would be impossible without his necromancing brother to corral the spirits. He continued to back up, trying to give the spear more power while one of his shots charged. The mer tilt his head, curious at the sight but doing nothing else, seemingly not even worried about the thing continuing to drag itself closer.

The shot went off, the spear returned to the Knight, and the creature swiftly ducked, avoiding the shot deftly. Something that made the mer pout, upset he couldn’t see the effects of the glowy thing. The spear was sent at it again, unavoidable and vicious in its actions. The spear wouldn’t be able to do more than weaken it, perhaps slow it down, but that could be enough for the Knight to get himself and the mer to safety. The mer who was looking at the amalgamation like it had ruined his fun.

Which, for the mer, it had. The mer could see the Knights worry, could feel it in how the grip around his tail increased the closer the thing got and the more it shook off the spears effects. If it attacked the Knight, the mer might get caught in the crossfire even if the brigandine would easily devour whatever dared touch it with intent to harm. But the thing might perhaps be smarter than they thought, seeing as it knew to just charge instead of pausing to remove the spear it would never be able to. They avoided the surprisingly swift stampede, the spear cut into the oily body of the shadowy mass, but it wouldn’t be enough. And the mer didn’t feel like getting his tail more damaged than it already was.

So, much to the mers displeasure, he’d have to intervene. Sure, there was no guarantee his plan would work, but if those ugly birds could make sailors sail right into rocks, then he figured at the very least, he could confuse dead land walkers.

It started as a soft noise, a lilting hum with an underlying power to it that locked the Knights limbs in place and caused the creature to pause mid shift. Intrigued, the hum grew louder, using the echoing quality of the mines to form a haunting melody that beckoned to the creature while demanding the Knight listen and walk backwards, back down the way they’d come. The Knight wasn’t focused on the fact that his body was moving on its own, too confused at the melody that made his soul liquid race and freeze at the same time. The Knight couldn’t even think clearly, just listen and weakly grasp at errant thoughts that refused to become full ponderings.

The creature followed, stumbling over itself, grudge fueling it pierced by the melody surrounding it with an enchanting promise to be rewarded. Slowly, as they walked, its body shifted, condensing down until it was vaguely human in shape, with far too many arms covering its wiry torso and a head much too large. The feet staggered as it followed, needing to be closer, ever closer to the sound. It wanted the sound, the melody wrapped its thoughts in a soothing balm and coaxed its racing voices to silence. 

The Knight continued, seeing the path before him but not truly understanding that he was moving towards the watery passage again. Not until scales shifted and the mer slipped from his arms. The melody didn’t pause, growing louder and powerful, calling to the thing with its eerie notes, discouraging the Knight from getting closer. The mer slid into the water, reaching delicate hands out to the creature, eyes practically luminescent in the shadows of the mine. Back further into the water, until it was just his head and hands above the pool, reaching imploringly for the creature to follow, to condense itself until it could reach the song.

It plunged in a second before the song was swept into the water, the echoes of it continuing until the water began to ripple, then splash, then froth, then, it was still.

The Knight, shaking his head and desperately tearing cobwebs from his mind, tried to peer into the water, growing closer to just diving in to help the mer until quite suddenly, the mer was reappearing. Swifter than before, he lunged out of the water and coiled around the Knight, this time, not to drag him in, but to shove him away while clinging to him. The Knight gave out a rather undignified shout as he instinctually latched onto the mer’s hips, arms wrapping around the mer to provide a sort of perch until the tail dragging on the mossy rocks could be settled.

The mer stuck his tongue out at the pool of water, huffing in clear agitation for forcing him to ruin any chances of toying with the Knight subtly. Now he was stuck with a flustered Knight who was more skipping backwards than actually effectively running back the other way. The amalgamation was stuck, that was for certain, it was far too big and no longer coordinated and wouldn’t be able to get back through the passage, but even so, the mer wanted to be out of the cave.

It would take the Knight another minute of poorly back stepping for his body and mind to finally reconnect and for him to start questioning the mer as the mers tail wrapped back in its place, and as the brigandine let of pleasant warmth once more for the mer to bask in. The mer, in response to the prodding on his tail, smacked the Knight with it, pout, and looked away, too annoyed his ideas likely wouldn’t work anymore. Awful really, the mer had been hoping to see if he could get the Knight to do a silly dance with his silly legs. His brother had become near immune to the songs the mer knew and all those pranks and embarrassing things he’d been hoping to do, gone. Now again, they were probably gone, the element of surprise ruined.

It wasn’t all bad though, eventually the Knight got the message that the pouty mer wasn’t going to deign to answer him. After fruitless attempts at answers he finally let out a hearty sigh, clinked his head against the others and trot faster, eager to get out as well. Or at least see any other signs of non-hostile life.

It would take some time, but they’d find a shaft that lead up, and the Knight found himself quite impressed when the mer, with only his upper arms, hauled himself up the ladder with barely a pause. It was equally funny when the mer demanded to be carried the very moment the Knight got fully up the shaft and had taken a few steps from the hole. The Knight did wonder about the mers brother. If this version was so open and bold, he wondered if his was any different too.

He would have asked, but the answer was given to him when the next shaft had whistling noises too unnatural to be the mine just breathing. The mer too, perked up, grabbing the Knights handle and collar and impatiently trying to usher him forward faster while not being able to physically push the Knight Express. Halfway up the shaft, a voice was heard, one quite similar to his brothers, but the tone didn’t match, yet the mer remained determined and so it was another shaft before they ran into something that instantly trying to kill them.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Have we been down this path? I can’t tell if we’ve been down this path” The mage squint at a rock wall as if the wall would suddenly spit out a map or guide for him to use. The red mer in the bubble hissed at him, arms crossed and fin flicking like a cats, angry but unwilling to risk biting the other again. The mage didn’t much care, too achy and tired to much worry for the ball of ire beside him. He technically could have left the red mer to drag himself behind or even just leave him behind. But the red was a balm on his nerves and he hadn’t been able to just walk away.

Hilariously enough it reminded him of his own brother when grounded—literally in some cases—which made it easier to take the anger for what it likely really was. A means of hiding the fact that the red mer was scared and unhappy with being so far out of his depth. The way he slaughtered those creatures told the mage the red mer was probably used to being ahead of the curve in regards to scenarios, but this time, even the mage was stumped. His magic felt too stuffy with the illness burrowing through it. Like a curse but for magic and not the mage. It was miserable and he hated it and if it hadn’t been for the red mer he’d have just let his magic go wild.

Instead he kept the other off the ground in that bubble of water and kept going forward, gears and porcelain never growing as tired as muscles would have. Could he have leaned against a wall to rest? He could have but the red mer had started hissing and snapping at him through the bubble when he stopped for too long so that wasn’t actually an option unless he wanted to flash freeze the red mer. He didn’t, the chances of the thaw being harmless were too unknown, and snappy or no, that was a form of his brother. So he did what he normally did when his own sibling was hissy.

He thought out loud.

“I think we have, we’ve been going in circles. I don’t have any bread crumbs either, so no being Hansel or Gretel I suppose. You know I could try warping but with how my magic is I’m surprised you aren’t—aren’t—” A stutter, and a sneeze, and the mage blearily turned back to the red mer.

Who was now bright neon pink.

And hadn’t seen it yet.

The mage may or may not have balked a little, stumbling in his steps, almost running into a post. The red mer grinned at him, clearly enjoying the flustered mage up until he realized that wasn’t so much flustered as it was nervously embarrassed. Like the red mers brother when he’d done something accidental and wasn’t sure if there was an easy fix. And it was directed at him, that look of mild panic was directed at him, or more, his tail.

His bright pink tail.

Now, there were things mers would perpetually be proud of. Every single mer out there had the same thing they would take care of, preen over, indulge, and spoil. That, was their tail, and their coloration. Their tail was their means of survival, their coloration was what made them unique. There wasn’t a single other porcelain cherry barb mer out there that had the patterns and coloration that the red mer did. Not a single blue fan tailed tuxedo mer out there that matched his brothers exact blue. And now, the red mer was bright pink.

Now, a small part of the red mer was fine with it, the coloration was still pretty neat, and certainly different. Except there was a problem. His brother _loathed_ bright colors like pink. Reds were tolerated only because he’d not yet been able to figure out how to kill his red brother and not feel bored and lonely after. Reds were tolerated because reds could technically blend in with the corals. Pinks technically could too, but not this level of pink. He practically fluoresced. He went from poppy red to a big ol’ beacon of color that just about seared his eyes.

Worse still, his brother might not even recognize him as his brother. Even if he was the one to change the red mer with his new scary magic. His sibling was picky about certain things, going as far as hissing at him the one time the red mer got covered in odd water that had tint him green for a day. That hadn’t been fun, having to stay on one side of the house as the water chipped away at the odd coloring hiding his red while his brother fret and hissed at him. For, and in his siblings words, ‘looking utterly ridiculous, if even a spot of that gets on me I’m killing you and having boss bring you back. Maybe that’ll teach you not to swim through sinking wreckage’. Ultimately, he’d learned that his brother must always be blue, and it was imperative he always remain red.

Neon pink looked up _slowly_ at nervous blue.

It was a point of later pride that the red mer had managed to launch out of the bubble for the first time since it formed and latch onto the fakes face. Up until the head came off and the jaw unhinged and then there was screaming from both parties and magic drenched the area and really neither was sure what happened. The end result was a once again red mer in a bubble sealed with clear ice and a mage huddled in an embarrassed and stunned ball behind a support beam.

The red mer was glad his brothers soul wasn’t looking because he _sulked_ in that bubble for a tragic amount of time while the soul prison recovered.

He was even more glad that silence had descended on them in their little dark corner of the cave because that allowed him to pick up a _song._

Just the barest echoes, the whispers of magic worked into a tone that he’d only ever seen sirens, his manager, and his brother achieve. Without thought, he _threw_ himself at the wall of ice forming his bubble of water. Head tilted in the direction of the sound, shifting when the sound moved or when the tunnel split so he was growing closer and closer, heedless of the mage following him.

“That song has a really weird ring to it, I guess that’s your brother though, or food. Maybe something to bite, Mr. bitey fish.” The mage, fully recovered from the previous incident, dryly noted, glad his magic had enough in it while fighting the magical illness to keep him in one piece. The red mer just kept rolling the bubble forward, sometimes throwing himself backwards when the ball went the wrong way. It was an uneventful, if a bit funny, trip, or would have been if not for the beast awaiting them, likely lured in by the song as well.

It, with its shadow body, numerous hands, and lantern light flickering out of its gaping maw whenever it sucked in a pained breath, barely fitting in the tunnel it had left soot marks on all over. It, with broken pick axes and shovels for teeth, hellish coal eyes a dozen in number. And upon hearing the bubbles ice surface scraping on the damp floor, and the mages footsteps, the flames that licked out of it as it shifted from mystified to furious. Though, that could easily have been because the song cut off, a haunting echo left in its wake.

The red mer bristled much like a cat would, the fin on his back arching up as if to make him look bigger. His impressively sharp fangs bared, but behind the ice, it wasn’t all that frightening to the beast. The mage did wonder if the beast could feel fear, then remembered it didn’t need to be afraid to be effective.

As the ice ball was sent careening back with one swing, missing the mage by inches, the mage sort of wished he’d remembered that earlier. There had already been one mishap with it, he wasn’t confident there wouldn’t be another, and the environment seemed to be making his magic worse. Perhaps because it was in constant use now? He couldn’t recall what the disease riddled pigeon of a djinn had said about the illness after he’d caught it. The thing came at him, and he turned and hoofed it, because he wasn’t about to play magic roulette after the color incident. He easily caught up to a hissing ball of fury, shoving it forward as he hopped to avoid a swing of broken support beam. The red mer immediately started a new fit of fury upon realizing they were getting farther away from the song, and the mage understood. Really, he did, he’d be just as annoyed if something was carrying him from his sibling, but the beast behind him swung a support beam that could crush the mage and red mer just by falling on them, like it was a stick. And without his powerhouse of a brother, he wasn’t having any part of that.

The red mer seemed to get this, because after writhing in fury, he shifted to whistling. Was it any more useful? No, the beast actually seemed to get angrier with the noise. Was it pleasant? No, it sounded like the mage grinding a hand down his arm to make that really awful porcelain screeching noise. He almost told the red mer to knock it off, except he blinked. See he should have known his magic was the way it was. He really should have expected the short warp it used to bring them from in front of the beast to behind it in order to avoid a swing he’d been too distracted to see. But he hadn’t, so he stumbled and nearly fell on his face, only catching himself at the last second on the bubble.

“I can’t wait for my brother to get here, _so many things he’s going to get for strength training after this.”_ The mage hissed bitterly back at the thing. It breathed a wall of fire at him in answer. Arguably a solid answer if the mage wasn’t so irritated being stuck between someone who couldn’t sing and someone who needed anger management. It was great that he didn’t have lungs, because that meant he could keep hissing insults at the thing while running, shifting down different halls at random until the inevitable happened.

A dead end, with a mining cart and a bunch of bones, its dining room apparently. The mage would have thunked his head on the wall but he was honestly pretty busy hissing insults. The red mer was busy still whistling and ticking the beast off even more.

“Go ahead buddy, see what hitting me gets you, I’ll have you know I’ve got magic issues and I’m not afraid to use them. Or tears, I can guarantee if I start crying my brother will somehow sense it and come sprinting this way and i promise he’ll avenge me.” The mage warned, inwardly well aware if the thing actually seriously damaged him to the point of near death his magic would be the thing to respond first and it wouldn’t be pretty for anyone. Even the annoying whistling mermaid. Or the annoying shuffling noise coming from one of the passages behind the beast. Or was it from the beast?

The spear piercing through it was enough of an answer.

It jerked forward, inferno within its maw flaring bright enough the mage swore his hair was singed and he was now potentially missing his eyebrows. He’d learn in a couple minutes that no, his hair and brows were still there, but in the moment, he mourned a little. His sense of self preservation dead and long gone, like his mortal life, he couldn’t bring himself to actually feel fear in the face of a beast with anger issues, swinging a support beam around and spawning spears from its throat.

His magic however, seemed to have enough. That, or it noticed something he didn’t, and the beast froze. And then it shrank. Just, out of the blue, started shrinking in size, dropping the support beam, shrinking further and further until it was about the size of the stored away now rabbit creature.

Oh, oh so an alternate of his brother was a knight? Well, he knew what his powerhouse brother was going to wear for festivities this year. And the red mer went from whistling to staring in dumb confusion. Looking at him, then at the blue mer wrapped around the knight, then back at him, then at the mer. The beast let out a tiny war cry, launched at the mage, and fell right into the storage rune the rabbit was in.

The knight blinked.

The mer perched on the knight cooed.

The red mer squeaked out a pitifully confused whine.

The mage sneezed.

Not the best reunion, but it was better than what would happen later.

Now though, the bubble removed the ice, turning back into pure water. The red mer immediately began to roll the ball over, pausing once he realized just what his brother was using as a perch. It was actually hilarious to see the ball of weird turn on someone else, at least to the mage. The red mer reached for his brother, shifted a bit away from the knight who seemed lost—poor fella seemed to have gotten the tame sibling, he’d learn in due time—and then snapped his arms out. Like he was reaching to catch the blue mer. Except the blue mer only tilt his head, wrapping his arms around the knight like that armor was the cuddliest thing in the world.

And then the red mer turned on the knight, all narrowed eyes and building hiss. The mage, not wanting another fit, stepped in.

“Hello, names what you probably think it is if it starts with an M, this is the hissiest ball of anger I’ve ever met in my life. Hasn’t said his name yet, don’t know if he can even understand me but boy does he get the tone enough to know when I’m making jokes.” He spoke over the building hiss, sort of in an attempt to warn the red mer just who made the bubble he was in, and to be heard. The Knight hesitantly shifted a step away from the bubble, very clearly debating the threat level against the oddity that was seeing a fishy version of himself aggressively hiss.

“Same, with the name, except with a C, just call me Knight, I think that’ll be easier for now. Since, obviously, there’s more than one of me in this area. Wow those are some teeth.”

“Watched him use them to bite the heads off some tiny creatures, it was pretty neat.” The mage replied cheerfully. He held his hand out, and it was snatched up by a curious blue mer. “If you’re thinking of biting me I gotta warn you that one already tried it and learned he can’t bite through metal.”

“He bit you?!”

“Yeah! If I didn’t have so much magic and if I wasn’t dead already I’d be worried about diseases! Do mermaids even have diseases? I’ll have to ask Cala the next time I see her. Or let my brother do it…”

“That’s mean and you know it.”

“He’ll know too and likely do it anyway and that’s why he’s the best.”

The red mer slapped the bottom of the bubble a few times with an open palm, clearly demanding his sibling join him in the bubble. The blue mer didn’t so much as spare him a glance, but did flick his tail dismissively. The blue mer was much too curious and busy exploring the porcelain palm of the mage. Then the remnants of the bite mark the magic had left alone, then his face.

“Also don’t try to snap my neck, it isn’t attached and your brother once again already tried that.” The mage intoned. The blue mer hummed, gleefully playing with the mages hair, heedless that the poor Knight had to shift into a stance just to stay upright as the mer attached to him put him off balance.

“You think he’ll hurt other versions of his brother?” The knight asked, trying to get a better look at the red mer baring teeth at him in the bubble.

“Who knows, but if he starts hissing I don’t care what mer me wants, he’s going in the bubble.”

And then the hissing started.

The blue mer snapped his head around, yanking the mages arm up and out and very sharply pointing at the bite mark, then at himself, then at the red mer in an accusatory way. It was fascinating because both the Knight and mage understood the ensuing argument in a loose sense despite no words being spoken.

From the indignant posture of the blue mer, to the vaguely apologetic but defensive shoulder hunch of the red mer. Then to the dangerous gleam in the blue mers eyes and the sorry huffing of the red mer. It ended when the red mer gestured quite aggressively at the Knights legs. The blue mer huffed, pout, tilt his head up and away, and hugged himself tighter around the Knight, blatant in stating that bubbles were for losers, leg having Knights is where it was at in regards to transportation.

The good news was the red mer didn’t hiss quite as much. The bad news was he sulked as the group walked. The Knight seemed quietly reserved to being in the middle of the sibling fight, sometimes trying to bite back laughter when the blue fin bat at the red scale dotted hand reaching out from the bubble.

The Knight and mage chat quite amiably, pleasantly going from topic to topic. It was enough to keep spirits up considering it was now going on over a couple hours since they all woke in the new place without their own siblings. The shenanigans of the other two helped as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My enjoyment of writing these fellas always means i write way more than probably necessary, but its fun, so... The next bit should be up faster than this too. Preferably tomorrow, it depends how exhausted and worn work leaves me feeling.  
> Negative Nancy begone! Honestly, honestly almost had the short conversation between the mer siblings in here then decided the readers could absolutely have more fun figuring out the conversation themselves than just reading my version. So have at it! The biggest question, who's more evil, mer Mugs or possessed Mugs? I could never have a favorite AU, they're all too fun, even the ones i didn't include in this like Noir and Witch. But yours?  
> Did not expect to come out of these chapters thinking "oh man the knight and blue mer are the best duo." But here we are.  
> Fun tidbit, Mer Mugs is deeply afraid of birds, he's learned the siren songs at the risk of being near bird creatures just so he could lure sailors in not only to feed his sibling, but also for the shrimp the boats he tends to target carry. He once stole a plate of shrimp scampi and became addicted and its why Mer Cup sleeps with his pet mantis shrimp tucked close.


	4. Quartet 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A doll and a necromancer and a deity and a baby walk into a decrepit, gross town... oh dang it i forgot the punchline!

The doll had long since picked the Lady up and perched the dress wearing porcelain teen on his arm. It was easier than pausing when roots caught the others heels or snagged on the hem of the gown. The Lady had been growing progressively huffier and had even started eyeing the hem of his gown like he was plotting murder. But the doll was quite happy to pluck him up as they walked around the base of the mountain. It was just about the cutest thing the doll had ever seen when the Lady beamed a smile at him, daintily shifted until he was perched properly, then laced his fingers together and continued talking.

It also soothed the doll a little. Because it was quite jarring to go from seeing ones brother, to seeing a vastly smaller and daintier version in a fancy dress being assaulted by a cyclops. Initially the doll thought he was looking at an alternate sister instead of a brother, and it made him more nervous, unsure how to handle a sister. But the Lady was astoundingly astute and seemingly knew exactly what to ask or talk about to get the doll at ease and almost merry in their current adventure.

“And I mean the hospital was boring, and it did suck to be split up from our parents, but I hardly remember the early bits anymore! Just the last few months, and if we hadn’t died, we wouldn’t have gotten picked up by Elder and given neat abilities. It’s a win all around!”

“That’s certainly a positive outlook!” The Lady agreed, sugar sweet and joyful. He’d laced his fingers together and left his hands to rest on his lap, completely content and trusting that he wouldn’t be dropped and didn’t even need to hold onto the doll to stay upright.

“Actually, my brother has some necromancy in his magic, he’s only ever used it once though. But man, it would have been hilarious to see him use it on that stupid train.”

“The Phantom Express? Goodness, it was awful on that train, just about ended me had Grim and my brother not been better than the train expected.”

“Really? My brother scared the tar out of it—and me—and outpaced a headless horseman!”

The Lady let out an excited “oh!”, stars shining in his eyes. “That must have been delightful! Those are always so touchy about their speed.”

“We lapped it twice before it even got up to speed. I have to say, I highly recommend doing that when you get the chance. Maybe my brother can give you some tips! Or his magic will, thing has a mind of its own I swear.” The doll finished, pausing to rip a tree out of the ground, smash down some thorny bushes blocking their path. The tree was put back in its original spot, and if trees could make noise it was quite apparent the plant would have been giving off a high pitched distressed noise.

The Lady tilt his head, curious but not towards the idea of sentient magic. He knew that well, his own had quite a temper, influenced heavily by Inkwell’s own protective streak. He wondered if the doll simply didn’t realize his own body’s inert magic was sassy in its own way. The fact that it always seemed to know just when he was about to use strength that should leave the porcelain his shell was made of broken and enhanced that area to protect it spoke volumes of its competency and desire to keep the red doll in one piece. Perhaps he just assumed it was natural, that the magic wasn’t really strong enough or active enough in him to act as deliberately as his siblings. It was an interesting thought, and he hoped he got to see more of it in action.

“With enough time magic will grab onto the personality of its host. If he inherited it and if your Elder inherited it, then that makes it plenty old enough to have enough sentience. Though, I’m not sure you could call it sentience so much as simple awareness.” The Lady tried to find good words to explain it without sounding like a nerd or one of those awful liars. And normally it was easy to find words, he was a diplomat as much as he was a necromancer after all. But the other was an alternate brother, and he kept forgetting the other wouldn’t get certain jokes his own would much less understand things that his world may not even have. Not only that, but part of him was afraid he’d say or do something that would offend or insult the other, and to insult his sibling—alternate or no—felt wrong. He had no idea how thus far he hadn’t messed up, but he’d also been turning up the cute as best he could without making it obvious to distract the other.

“Ohhhh… That explains the sass and how magic roulette always gives the funniest results.” The doll nodded his head, pleased he’d learned something about his brother’s magic his brother may not even know. “But what’s making that weird electric feeling I’ve been getting since getting here happen?”

“I can’t guess as to earlier, but I…” The Lady paused, a blue tint flushing over his cheeks. “I’ve been trying to see if I can use my magic to find my brother, but you’re a soul in a body that your soul doesn’t really recognize as ‘home’ and I keep having to stop. Sorry, I was hoping you weren’t noticing.” His fingers squeezed tightly together in bashfulness. His shoulders hitched upwards as the Lady ducked his head down a little. The doll shrugged easily, charmed by the embarrassed Lady, but a bit put down that the Lady would assume he would be mad.

“What if I walked away a distance? Could you use your magic better then?” He hoped the Lady could read the lack of offence on him, because really, it was hard getting mad at his own brother sometimes. Much less an alternate that radiated cute and harmlessness. Really, this one’s brother must be something neat if his blue sibling could look and act so sweetly so easily. Not a glint of suspicion in his eye or an expression of wariness to be seen. Not like his own brother after dying once.

“No… I… Mine is area of effect, and even away from Inkwell it tends to have quite the radius. You’d have to leave the forest to be safest. That, or I’d have to reorient those sigils and spells keeping your soul in that body to get it to accept its new home.”

“Would that hurt?”

“No! Goodness no, all the reanimated I’ve spoken to and who have documented being revived all say it’s akin to a really nice stretch.” The Lady perked up, hopeful and eager to reassure. No, Necromancy was not an aggressive form of magic. Strict at times, but not aggressive, especially not in the hands of the Lady. “But you’d never be able to leave that body either, and if it was irreparably damaged, your soul would leave as if your mortal body had died.”

“Eh,” The doll shrugged, tightening his arms a bit to nudge the Lady perched on his arm as best he could. “I beat the Devil, don’t think there’s a threat worse than that that this big brother can’t handle.” He grinned, confident and sure, and the Lady beamed back, nodding agreeably without hesitation.

“Papa loves to brag he’s the undefeated champion of hell so if you beat him I’m sure nothing can get you!”

“Exactly! I—what.” It took a second, but once the words registered, the doll stopped mid step, heel touching the ground.

“He adopted us after he married Lady Luck so his father wouldn’t miracle Lady Luck into having children.”

The doll stared ahead unblinking, unseeing, trying to wrap his mind around it but unable to. While he was distracted, the Lady went about refitting the spells around the other’s soul. His magic brushed against the others, then against the stronger magic keeping all the spells and strength in place, and that was when he understood just what the red doll had meant about a sassy magic. 

It coiled around his, examining it, prodding the magic for any ill intent like a tiger sniffing at a fawn. The moment it understood what his was trying to do however, it all but metaphorically grabbed his magic by the hand and began dragging it around, excited to do something it had been wanting to do but incapable of at the time. With it leading the way, it smoothed the transition over even more than what it would have been alone, directing the necromancer’s magic to specific points that needed it and breezing past ones that didn’t. It was jarring, but the Lady was adaptable enough to roll with it. It would be later when he’d realize just how dangerous the magic laying under the other’s porcelain skin had been and how much danger he’d been in had it decided it didn’t like him. But for now, by the time the other surfaced from distressing mental images, it was over.

The doll didn’t even appear to notice the new feeling, he just started walking again.

“That’s definitely different from ours, though I don’t go there anymore so..”

“Actually, why did you have to fight him?”

“Ah ha….ha.. Uh, this uh… Long story.”

“I love stories!” The Lady chirped, shifting just a hint on the arm he was using as a seat to angle himself more towards the doll. The doll who was starting to get a red flush on his face.

“I mean, it’s not _that_ impressive or… You know it uh… Look we all make mistakes! I uh, accidentally bet mine and my brother’s soul for all the money in the casino….” The last bit came out rapid fire, almost too fast to be understandable, but the Lady understood it enough to snicker at the panic in the other’s voice and face. Even his steps were faster and less fluid. “So I lost and had to take down a bunch of debtors and get back our contract and he sort of lied about letting us go so we kicked him to the curb. Actually turned him holy we hit him so hard.”

Truly, that memory would be forever cherished, regardless of the road that put them on the path of having to fight the literal devil. The Lady too got an amused glint in his eye.

“I turned Papa holy too by accident, revived the old holy part of him. The graveyard thought it quite silly!” The doll snort, settling back down. “Though it’s unfortunate you bet for money and not something else, like one of those fancy new aeroplanes. Or a pirate ship.”

“I had to fight one, I don’t think they’re cool anymore.”

“Goodness, you had quite the journey then?”

“Yeah! Ah… you were going to do that magic thing,” The doll paused again, brows furrowing when the Lady just shook his head with a smile.

“I did that already, but if you’d like to see something cool, would you please set me down? I need contact with the land for this to work best.”

“Oh! Ohhhhh, wow it really _didn’t_ hurt!”

“I’d never hurt any version of my brother. Not allowed to.” The Lady pretended not to notice the confused noise once his heels were on the ground. Without much pause, he let his magic build. He couldn’t use too much of it, but he didn’t have to in order to send out a call for his brother.

The air still grew saturated with the arctic scent of magic, electricity crackled green and yellow around the petite form. A feeling of contentment washed over the doll, filling his soul and settling it. Then, a wave of lime green and sunflower yellow magic burst out and down, pulsing through the ground like a bloodhound tracking a scent. It was certainly a different sort of lightshow the doll was used to seeing. The magic not needing sigils or runes to do what it was doing, simply going about what it needed to with industrial efficiency. Oddly enough however, he felt the sudden urge to poke the other or nudge him, let him know he was right there. It took him a second to shake off the powerful urge, but once he did he realized that was probably what it was doing to the other’s actual brother as well. A call for reassurance that the other was near and around and safe.

He couldn’t tell if the other answered, not based on the furrow of the others brows, but that wasn’t what got his attention after the second pulse brushed over him. No, that would be the countless whispers starting to fill the small clearing they’d stopped in. The doll frowned, reaching up to adjust his hat so the brim cast a proper shadow over his bright candy apple red eyes. He didn’t need to shift closer to the Lady, his rigid stance near the other was clear enough, as was the subtle stance he fell into. If any of the odd shadow creatures got closer, he’d be more than happy to put a new crater in the forest.

They clearly got that message, but by the third wave it was evident they were more than willing to test their dodging skills. Which is exactly when the Lady huffed in disappointment and pout, cutting off the flow of magic. Some skittered away, others however, leaned a bit more into the clearing, the call of a necromancer like a sirens song. One many of the grudges and lost souls found irritatingly irresistible. The doll remained rigid, displeased with the air of malice many gave off, but it was the Lady who had their attention, not the guard dog stopping short of flat out growling at them.

The Lady glanced about the clearing, pout falling from his face to let the new blank expression settle.

“You have fans.” The doll joked weakly. The Lady didn’t respond, he was more focused on those around him. After a few beats, he held himself a little higher, head tilted just a hair to the side.

“Don’t be disrespectful, you won’t like what I do to you if you keep showing that sort of attitude to me.”

And wasn’t it odd that such a soft and chipper and sweet voice could slide into such glacial territory it sent a shiver down the doll’s spine. The threat didn’t have to be in the words, the tone alone would have been enough. More than enough really. The doll almost felt whiplash from going to being next to a docile, harmless little thing, to a mage fully in their element and most displeased with the result of their experiment. It was what ultimately had several scattering. Those that didn’t slunk into the shadows, signaling they wouldn’t attack, but they weren’t keen to leaving either.

The Lady shifted again, the air lightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest in a full pout.

“I didn’t find him, but I did find other strange things. And a lot of dead things.” He glanced around again, already leaning closer to the doll to be picked back up. It was adorable and the doll didn’t even hesitate to pick the other off the ground and settle him back in his previous position. If the necromancer wasn’t worried about the souls, then the doll wouldn’t be either. When the Lady pointed in a direction, the doll immediately began to jog that way, amused that the shadows once looming scrambled to get away from the two.

“So many dead things…” The Lady mused, fingertips touching his lips, eyes flitting around to look at the things that had answered something they weren’t supposed to.

“Well hopefully the strange things are my brother or someone else?” The doll spoke, hopeful they’d find his own brother. He bet his sibling would be more than happy to help find the Lady’s sibling, or at least talk magic. It’d also go a long way to reassuring the doll that his ill sibling was fine. Being away for so long was starting to grate at his soul in extremely unpleasant ways. Frankly if it hadn’t been for the Lady’s presence, he’d have probably just started destroying things until the noise attracted his sibling. Which, based on the creatures they’d run into thus far, would have been less than pleasant regardless of how good he was at fighting after having to get through seventeen major fights. 

It took a few minutes of jogging, but soon enough they found a trail leading up the mountain, and from there it became easier to just focus on moving towards the next location. They listened more than spoke, curious as to the building noises ahead and behind than having any conversation that could distract. There was a fight or something going on in the distance, and they wanted to see what was letting off bright golden fire and what had made the Lady’s magic pause.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The blue deity may have been distracted when he’d jogged into a den of those creatures picking clean the bones from the little graveyard a short trip out of the town. He may, _or may not_ , have been jiggling one of his golden threads over the baby to keep the dear fella happy and content. It had taken one of them growling for him to finally look up and freeze. He was in the center of the group of ten, and all of them looked most displeased at his presence. He pressed his hand over the baby, pushing the infant to his chest tighter. The infant made a displeased noise, and he replied with a soothing hum, giving the infant the thread as more began to slip through the air like spiderwebs. Draping themselves over the area, turning sickly black where they touched the creatures. The creatures—he’d never seen such odd things before, so full of malice and faults and _hunger_. There was even the remains of three of those centaur things.

He felt the strings shift, and dropped low to avoid the first swing, then threw himself to the left to avoid the second, one hand pressed to the infant at all times. Though the infant was clearly getting a kick out of the movement. The teeny squeal of glee he let out was plenty sign of joy. The blue deity was glad one of them was having a good time because the blue deity sure wasn’t. The threads all burst into flame, and the parts that touched the creatures immediately melted onto icy flesh, searing through frozen limbs but not doing enough damage to stop them from rushing him with speed he hadn’t expected.

If not for the threads and base instinct he’d have lost his head by the swing of one of them. It was the same one whose eagerness put a break in the circle of creatures and it was the exit he took, diving out and rolling quickly back to his feet. He was fast, but those things were faster, and without his shadow diving, he doubt he’d be able to outpace them for very long. They were hunting him now, angry at the wounds he’d inflicted in ways they didn’t understand and hungry to crush him. Of course his fire didn’t let up, searing further and further into flesh and growing, feeding off of the nigh infinite weight of their faults and sins.

That alone was what slowed most of them down and what allowed his threads to give him a better read and continue dodging swipes and swings while running back for the town. He needed a place to lay low, hide. And the buildings were the best chance he had. Not that the decrepit shells gave him much hope, but if he could just hide the baby he’d be far more confident fighting the creatures. He moved faster, sliding under branches and claws and rolling away from teeth, hoping his fire would chew through them faster, inflict more pain and misery until they’d stop following and let the flames chew through them as they bit through bone.

He shot through the window of the first building he came to, a brick one that was missing a portion of its roof and doors. Still, the creatures were far too big to do as he’d done and he took advantage of their having to reroute around the building to rush into one of the back rooms of the bank—he thought it was a bank at least.

In that room he found a safe embedded in the floor. Its hinges were broken and the door couldn’t lock anymore, not with how rusted the mechanism had gotten with time and decay. But it was still the best spot he could think of to put the infant into. The baby was covered in golden threads that shone brighter on touching him, letting out a warm, soothing glow that swept the shadows of the rusted safe interior away. He hoped it would be enough, leaving his shawl in there as well before pushing the door back over the entrance.

With that, he shot through the doorway, spying the first of the creatures fall through the hole in the ceiling, another slide into the doorway, and a third peer through the ceiling into the room. He waved cheerfully, and backflipped out the window next to the desk, easily evading the tackle from one of the creatures. He knew there were more outside, and anticipated the ambush waiting. They didn’t expect heels planted right in their face, breaking bone and cracking icy flesh. Then the inferno of golden fire tore into the creature waiting below, wrathfully tearing it apart as if his Domain was there, controlling the blaze, feeding it with all the protective fury it held. The one beside it didn’t escape the inferno either, and that was the break he needed to leap from the first’s skull into the other building nearby.

It too was missing the door, but it was in far better condition. It allowed him to lure another into the room with him and then set it alight as well, taking the number of attackers down to seven. But it also meant when he raced into the short hall leading to the front of the inn, he was equally trapped. Two awaited him, stained teeth clacking as they let him know in their own way they saw his predicament too. If he went back into that room, he’d be trapped with the burning one and those two. If he went forward, he’d have to dodge two attacks.

But see, and he gave them a saccharine smile rather than the fearful face they’d hoped for, he wasn’t his brother. Oh no, no his Domain wasn’t limited as his brothers was. Where his sibling could only take on one enemy at a time with Retribution, his Domain was more of a ‘to whom it may concern’ regarding area of effect. And a brilliant burst of fire ripped through the hallway, funneled perfectly to best blast into the creatures so powerfully they were sent back and the windows in the front entrance blew clean out. He leapt over their tumbled bodies, beginning to feel the strain of using his threads and fire as much as he was. With no Domain feeding him, he was more limited on what he could do.

And unfortunately he hadn’t even considered getting tired after two years of having total access to his Domain and its power. Which was why when one of the four remaining creatures dart from the side of the front entrance at him, he hadn’t had enough thread there to let him know and he was tackled down into the ground. It hadn’t expected success actually, which was why he and his slippery porcelain body escaped the weak grasp. A sharp crack of fire bit into the hand around his arm, chewing it clean off and freeing him. He scrambled up, feeling pieces of his porcelain rain down to the dry ground. His magic started the repair process, but it was hindered by him needing to keep moving.

The one that had lost a hand was shrieking hellishly, but wasn’t running at him, the other three were. And they were far more wary now that he’d shown to not be an easy target. Part of him was relieved that they’d chosen to hound him instead of searching for the infant, but perhaps they hadn’t seen the tiny form? He hoped so. He also hoped that if they crushed him he’d still be able to repair himself. Or his Domain would be able to find him and repair his body. At the very least, he hoped his brother would find his remains and destroy the creatures that he failed to. Because he was starting to slow down, copious use of his Domain’s magic wearing him down as if he was freshly turned again.

The creatures had already been faster than him, now it was only his dodging skills that kept him from being sent into the ground again. He ran for the next building, one of the sorry wooden ones that was barely holding on as is. He used it to catch a quick break, slinking through the shadows as if they could hide him or spirit him away as his Domain would have by now. They knew he was there, but he hoped going quiet would make them fear he was plotting. And he was, but he needed the building next to this one if memory served. He needed to get into the old general store and that meant keeping them confused and wary and away from the entrances.

They knew the threads hurt, and he used that, making his way unhindered through the rotted inside to the window. He didn’t need his threads to see the shadow lurking outside the glass, waiting for him, sensing his growing weakness. So he slipped up the stairs, listening as one finally grew tired of waiting and barged into the hole where the door had once been. The upstairs proved more harrowing than the downstairs, with massive patches of the floor sagging, and half the roof trying to take the second floor down to the first. It creaked too, which made his soul freeze, but his body kept moving, autopilot carrying it to the missing wall and that was where he leapt onto the roof of the store.

The general store was in tact enough that he had to go across the roof and down into the small alley between the buildings, taking advantage of the creatures still thinking he was in the other building to sneak into the broken window opening of the general stores office and into the main area. The smell of rot was abysmal enough he almost fell backwards into the office. How he’d forgotten such an unpleasant smell was unfathomable.

Had it gotten worse or was he just no longer distracted by the infant? He didn’t know, and really he didn’t care. He mostly wanted to focus on the plan. He’d almost finished it too when one of the things stormed through the entrance, chest heaving, ice cracking with every violent breath. It immediately spot him on the counter top and he waved cheerily. Just as the last thread settled into place, it and the other two shot towards him, and he _yanked_ on the threads around his fingers. The shelves that had once been stable enough to remain standing toppled, pulled off their bolts by the threads and came crashing down on the one that had been closest to him. The one behind that one got caught by two shelves that swung heavily upwards like a bear trap, crushing it between unforgiving wood edged with metal taken from cans and tied down. The third was pinned under one that was released and fell from the ceiling.

Had it killed them? He doubt that, but it would be enough to hopefully keep them down long enough for him to get the infant and get into the forest where he could better hide. He ran over the downed shelves and out the front entrance, precipitation beading on his porcelain from how freezing his soul had become in all the stress. He didn’t stop until he was in the middle of the road through town. He needed to know they were at least pinned and that meant trying to listen for wood scratching or crashing.

That fell to the wayside however when he heard a familiar, yet not familiar voice.

“Oh hey! It’s another you!” His not brother spoke, and in that moment, he found himself distracted. He saw the alternate version of himself—what a shame his brother hadn’t been lying and the well _definitely_ had found a universe where they were dolls and one where he wore a dress—and a red doll version of his sibling. He made a curious noise, forgetting that there had been hostile creatures out for his soul.

Unfortunate really, considering he’d forgotten about the fourth one that had lost its hand, but it hadn’t forgotten about him. It appeared before him and its heavy hand smashed against his chest, sending him back into a roll, leaving a trail of shattered porcelain.

It would have celebrate its final victory, but in the space of exactly one second, death descended upon it in the form of a red entity so blackened with malice it ate up the surrounding light. It would never see the other blue one rush over to the downed blue prey, but frankly, it would take the sweet embrace of death over the hellish fury ripping its body to pieces.

“Gracious!” The Lady fell heavily to his knees beside his downed alternate, a bit taken aback at seeing himself in different clothing, dripping porcelain as much as he was raining soul liquid from a shattered shoulder and chest. The scaled armor had done its job in keeping him in one piece and the golden collar managed to hold the shoulder in place, but it was the Lady’s magic that did most of the work in sealing the injuries back up and repairing what was lost.

“I know right? No manners whatsoever.” The blue deity answered, more annoyed that he’d been distracted than winded by the blow.

“I’d offer to bring it back for you to discipline but I doubt our brother’s alternate will leave much for me to work with.” The Lady smiled brightly, and the blue deity smiled back. To the outside observer, it was like looking between a black hole of hatred and sparkling rainbows of merriment. To the outside observer that was three angry creatures, it was a new challenger and easy prey. It was a no brainier that they went for the downed ones, but that proved the exact wrong move. The doll had finished with destroying the very remains of the first one. It was the pelvis that he hit first on one of them. The crack so sharp and immediate it stunned the other two as well.

The creature he hit let out a tiny wheeze as it toppled, midsection disintegrated. Steam pouring from the doll, bright red eyes aglow with loathing turned to the remaining two, and let it be known that creatures did indeed sometimes knw when to bail. Unfortunately, they weren’t allowed. He grabbed the leg of one of them, and used that one to beat the other one down. Then it became a game of ‘how many limbs can be removed or turned to wet powder’.

“You really shouldn’t be walking so soon!” The Lady’s voice carried through the apoplectic fury of an older brother seeing their younger sibling—alternate or no—be hurt and he turned to see the blue deity slowly moving away from the healing magic and towards the town.

“I left someone in that building and I don’t want to leave hi—oh!” The blue deity squeaked as he was swept up off his feet easily. The Lady trot over to the doll’s side, being picked up in the other arm and the two small blue porcelain brothers found themselves being carried by the doll who didn’t look the slightest bit winded from his maiming spree.

“Where to?” The doll asked without missing a beat. He was happy, he’d made a cool entrance on yet another. Which made up for accidentally distracting the gold adorned brother in blue. More than that, he’d blown off some of his unease in not finding his sibling, so he was riding a sort of ‘I’m the best big brother ever’ high. The Lady and blue deity glanced at one another, then the blue deity looked down at the ground he was now carried above, then the doll, and stars grew in his eyes. And if the doll thought the Lady was adorable, dear stars there was nothing that would ever match the sheer amount of cute that hit him when the blue deity _smiled_ at him.

“Isn’t he strong!” The Lady chirped sunnily.

“How amazing! And porcelain too!”

“Indeed! Oh you should have seen it but he took down a cyclops! With ease!”

The two gave the doll the sweetest smiles full of adoration he’d ever seen. Look, life was hard for big brothers sometimes, and right now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to bask in that radiant glow of cute was tough to swallow. It was like holding two pinnacles of adorable and how those things had hurt the blue deity, he’d never know. But he was angry he hadn’t turned their bones to dust _before_ removing limbs to prolong the misery. They deserved that and more and if he ran into more of those things he was enacting vengeance. Was he crying from the cute? He hoped not, he really did. He must not have been because the blue deity pointed at the least sorry looking of the brick buildings and he was moving on auto pilot, mind still trying to claw its way up out of the cotton candy clouds of adorable.

He _envied_ the siblings of these two, oh he _really_ did. His brother was sweet! Of course, and anyone that said otherwise would wake up in the hospital, but these two, especially the blue deity? Oh they had the cute down to an _art._ He almost didn’t want to let the still injured one down, but the blue deity was hopping down and moving over to the back office before he’d had the time to ask the other which room. Whoever were their siblings, he’d have to ask how they survived the adorable. If they were this adorable, that had to mean the siblings were tough, and he wondered what they were like.

There came a cooing from the back office, and the Lady shot ramrod straight, bright blue eyes alert and focused.

“Yes! You won hide and seek! You’ll do that many more times, I promise.” The voice of the blue deity drifted from the room as did the sound of metal creaking and more cooing noises. The Lady leaned forward, wanting to hop down but forgetting how in the brief time those noises caught his entire focus. The blue deity emerged carrying a bundle of gold with splashes of red, and at first the doll thought someone had been injured. Then the blue deity pointed their direction and the biggest red eyed he’d ever seen turned to him and the Lady.

Damn if the doll didn’t make a cute baby. How porcelain could have squishy looking cheeks, he’d never know but he was pleased anyway. Especially with how the Lady just about melted, it was good knowing the masters of cute could be affected like he was. And the infant was adorable, but frankly the ocean of cute the blue deity alone gave off was enough to temper the doll and he set the Lady down so the Lady could hurry over and let the infant examine him. Then he wondered if it was just an immunity knowing that was just himself, and he wasn’t cute, nope. He was cool and strong.

“Isn’t he precious?” The blue deity said, giving the baby over to the Lady so he could readjust his shawl on his now fully repaired shoulder. It was relieving to have magic not his own heal him, because it meant his magic could settle and build again. The blue deity still oriented the shawl so it was the same carrier from before and the baby was deposited back into his hands after the Lady had examined and been examined by the excited red infant. The infant looked at him, but evidently wasn’t as curious of the other red one as he was by blue. If the doll had to guess, it was because the red infant was simply indifferent if it didn’t pertain to something he found immediately interesting. Which, the doll supposed being another red one made him not too curious or exciting to see, regardless of the difference in features.

Though, red eyes did watch the reaction the two in blue gave when they were scooped back up and carted out now that all were present. The doll got the slightest feeling the cheerful noises were already memorized for the future. The doll wanted to see his own brother after all, and he really, _really_ needed a buffer to the cute, and that infant sure wasn’t being much of one. More than that, he could hear the shuffles, the shifts. The Lady, though gleefully playing with the infant with a ribbon off his gown, kept flitting his gaze about, trying to locate the source of a hostility that was growing the longer they stayed in the town. The blue diety smiled, but sometimes, that smile would sharpen when the baby wasn’t looking, growing far too saccharine.

They had to move, because whatever was following them now, was growing bolder, and none of them were too keen to be away from their siblings when the thing or things decided they were indeed worth the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahah..... Work got me feelin the creative blues, i swear i'm not taking forever on these on purpose but wow is it amazing how something that brings you joy can wither when life struts in bearing grenades. But! I've got a couple little things just about done too, so those will be up soon.   
> Anywho! This just in, doll cup makes a hilarious elder brother. Blue deity ranked the cutest of the mugmans, Knight ranked most reliable only because he didn't sell his and his siblings soul for shiny things. Knight unsure how to take such knowledge. The mers ranked most likely to eat literally whatever you shove in their face, but if the blue mer doesn't like it, he'll drown you.

**Author's Note:**

> The mers are the actual best way I've ever depicted them, and are criminally underrated. And for that... I am sorry.


End file.
